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A 

HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK 

THE  CRAYON  PAPERS 

BY 

WASHINGTON  IRVING 


BOSTON 

DIRIGO  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1898 


fS 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


1 


X  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK 


By  DIEDRICH  KNICKERBOCKER. 


5Bt  faoaarjjtib  bit  I'lr  Msisx  lag, 

MU  komt  mtt  klaarictb  aau  hm  hK%. 


BOOK  I. 

CONTAINING  DIVERS  INGENIOUS  THEORIES  AND  PHI. 
LOSOPHIC  SPECULATIONS,  CONCERNING  THE  CREA- 
TION AND  POPULATION  OF  THE  WORLD,  AS  CON- 
NECTED WITH  THE  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  WORLD. 

According  to  the  best  authorities,  the  world  in  which  we 
dwell  is  a  huge,  opaque,  reflecting,  inanimate  mass,  floating  in 
the  vast  ethereal  ocean  of  infinite  space.  It  has  the  form  of 
an  orange,  being  an  oblate  spheroid,  curiously  flattened  at 
opposite  parts,  for  the  insertion  of  two  imaginary  poles,  which 
are  supposed  to  penetrate  and  unite  at  the  centre ;  thus  forming 
an  axis  on  which  the  mighty  orange  turns  with  a  regular  dim-- 
nal  revolution. 

The  transitions  of  hght  and  darkness,  whence  proceed  the 
alternations  of  day  and  night,  are  produced  by  this  diurnal 
revolution  successively  presenting  the  different  parts  of  the 
earth  to  the  rays  of  the  sun.  The  latter  is,  according  to  the 
best,  that  is  to  say,  the  latest  accounts,  a  luminous  or  fiery 
body,  of  a  prodigious  magnitude,  from  which  this  world  is 
driven  by  a  centrifugal  or  repelling  power,  and  to  which  it  is 
di'awn  by  a  centripetal  or  attractive  force,  otherwise  called  the 


34 


A  HIS  TOUT  OF  NEW- TORE. 


attraction  of  gravitation ;  the  combination,  or  rather  the  coun- 
teraction, of  these  two  opposing  impulses  producing  a  circular 
and  annual  revolution.  Hence  result  the  different  seasons  of 
the  year,  viz.,  spring,  summer,  autumn,  and  winter. 

Tliis  I  believe  to  be  the  most  approved  modern  theory  on  the 
subject— though  there  be  many  philosophers  Avho  have  enter- 
tained very  different  opinions ;  some,  too,  of  them  entitled  to 
much  deference  from  their  great  antiquity  and  illustrious  cha- 
racters. Thus  it  was  advanced  by  some  of  the  ancient  sages, 
that  the  earth  was  an  extended  plain,  supported  by  vast  pillars,- 
and  by  others,  that  it  rested  on  the  head  of  a  snake,  or  the  back 
of  a  huge  tortoise— but  as  they  did  not  provide  a  resting  place 
for  either  the  pillars  or  the  tortoise,  the  whole  theory  fell  to 
the  ground,  for  w^ant  of  proper  foundation. 

The  Brahmins  assert,  that  the  heavens  rest  upon  the  earth 
and  the  sun  and  moon  swim  therein  like  fishes  in  the  water, 
moving  from  east  to  west  by  day,  and  gliding  along  the  edge  of 
the  horizon  to  their  original  stations  during  the  night ;  *  while, 
according  to  the  Pauranicas  of  India,  it  is  a  vast  plain,  en- 
circled by  seven  oceans  of  milk,  nectar,  and  other  dehcious 
liquids;  that  it  is  studded  with  seven  moimtains,  and  orna- 
mented in  the  centre  by  a  mountainous  rock  of  burnished  gold ; 
and  that  a  great  dragon  occasionally  swallows  up  the  moon, 
which  accounts  for  the  phenomena  of  lunar  ecKpses.t 

Beside  these,  and  many  other  equally  sage  opinions,  we 
have  the  profomid  conjectures  of  Aboul-Hassan-Aly,  son  of 
Al  Khan,  son  of  Aly,  son  of  Abderrahman,  son  of  Abdallah, 
son  of  Masoud-el-Hadheh,  who  is  commonly  called  Masoudi, 
and  surnamed  Cothbiddin,  but  who  takes  the  humble  title  of 
Laheb-ar-rasoul,  which  means  the  companion  of  the  ambassa- 
dor of  God.  He  has  written  a  universal  history,  entitled 
"  ]\Iouroudge-ed-dharab,  or  the  Golden  Meadows,  and  the  Mines 
of  Precious  Stones."!  In  this  valuable  work  he  has  related 
the  history  of  the  world,  from  the  creation  down  to  the  mo- 
ment of  writing;  wliich  was  under  the  Caliphate  of  Mothi 
Billah,  in  the  month  Dgioumadi-el-aoual  of  the  33Gth  year  of 
the  Hegira  or  flight  of  the  Prophet.  He  informs  us  that  the 
earth  is  a  huge  bird,  Mecca  and  Medina  constituting  the  head, 
Persia  and  India  the  right  wmg,  the  land  of  Gog  the  left 
wing,  and  Africa  the  tail.    He  informs  us,  moreover,  that  an 


*  Faria  y  Sonza.  Mick.  Lns.  note  b.  7. 
t  Sir  W.  Joues,  Diss.  Antiq.  lud.  Zod. 


X  MSB.  Bibliot.  Roi.  Fr. 


A  imsTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


25 


earth  has  existed  before  the  present,  (which  he  considers  aa 
a  mere  cliicken  of  7,000  years,)  that  it  has  undergone  divers 
delu^^es,  and  that,  according  to  the  opinion  of  some  well- 
informed  Brahmins  of  his  acquaintance,  it  will  be  renovated 
every  seventy-thousandth  hazarouam;  each  hazarouam  con- 
sisting of  12,000  yeai-s. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  many  contradictory  opinions  of  phi- 
losophers concerning  the  earth,  and  we  find  that  the  learned 
have  had  equal  perplexity  as  to  the  nature  of  the  sun.  Some 
of  the  ancient  philosophers  have  affirmed  that  it  is  a  vast  wheel 
of  brilliant  fire ;  *  others,  that  it  is  merely  a  mirror  or  sphere  of 
transparent  crystal ;  f  and  a  tliird  class,  at  the  head  of  whom 
stands  Anaxagoras,  maintained  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  huge 
ignited  mass  of  iron  or  stone— indeed,  he  declared  the  heavens 
to  be  merely  a  vault  of  stone— and  that  the  stars  were  stones 
whirled  upward  from  the  earth,  and  set  on  fire  by  the  velocity 
of  its  revolutions.J  But  I  give  httle  attention  to  the  doctrines 
of  this  philosopher,  the  people  of  Athens  having  fully  refuted 
them,  by  banishing  him  from  their  city;  a  concise  mode  of 
answering  unwelcome  doctrines,  much  resorted  to  in  former 
days.  Another  sect  of  philosophers  do  declare,  that  certain 
fiery  particles  exhale  constantly  from  the  earth,  which,  concen- 
trating in  a  single  point  of  the  firmament  by  day,  constitute 
the  sun,  but  being  scattered  and  rambling  about  in  the  dark 
at  night,  collect  in  various  points,  and  form  stars.  These  are 
regularly  burnt  out  and  extinguished,  not  unlike  to  the  lamps 
in  our  streets,  and  requu-e  a  fresh  supply  of  exhalations  for  the 
next  occasion. § 

It  is  even  recorded,  that  at  certain  remote  and  obscure 
periods,  in  consequence  of  a  great  scarcity  of  fuel,  the  sun  has 
been  completely  burnt  out,  and  sometimes  not  rekindled  for  a 
month  at  a  time ; — a  most  melancholy  circumstance,  the  very 
idea  of  which  gave  vast  concern  to  Heraclitus,  that  worthy 
weeping  philosopher  of  antiquity.  In  addition  to  these  various 
speculations,  it  was  the  opinion  of  HerscheL  that  the  sun  is  a 
magnificent,  habitable  abode;  the  light  it  furnishes  arising 


*  Plutarch  de  Placitis  Philosoph.  lib.  iii.  cap.  20. 

t  Achill  Tat.  Lsag.  cap,  19.  Ap.  Petav.  t.  iii.  p.  81.  Stob.  Eclog.  Phys.  lib.  i.  p.  5«. 
Plut.  cle  Plac.  Phi. 

X  Diogenes  Laertius  in  Anaxag.  1.  ii.  sec.  8.  PlaA.  Apol.  t.  i.  p.  26.  Plut.  de  Pine. 
Pliilo.   Xenoph.  Mem.  1.  iv.  p.  815. 

§  Aristot.  Meteor.  1.  ii.  c.  2.  Idem.  Probl.  sec.  J5.  Stob.  Eel.  Phys.  1. 1.  p-  r>5. 
Bruck.  Hist.  Phil.  t.  i.  p.  1154,  &o. 


20 


A  IllSTOllY  OF  NEW-YORK, 


from  certain  empyreal,  luminous  or  phosphoric  clouds,  swim- 
ming  in  its  transx^arent  atmosphere.* 

But  we  will  not  enter  farther  at  present  into  the  nature  of 
the  sun,  that  being  an  inquiry  not  immediately  necessarj'  to 
the  development  of  this  history ;  neither  will  we  embroil  our- 
selves in  any  more  of  the  endless  disputes  of  philosophers 
touching  the  form  of  this  globe,  but  content  ourselves  T\dtli  the 
theory  advanced  in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  and  wiU  pro- 
ceed to  illustrate,  by  experiment,  the  complexity  of  motion 
therein  ascribed  to  this  our  rotatory  planet. 

Prof essoi' Von  Poddingcoft  (or  Puddinghead,  as  the  name  may 
be  rendered  into  English)  was  long  celebrated  in  the  university 
of  Leyden,  for  profomid  gravity  of  deportment,  and  a  talent  of 
gomg  to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  examinations,  to  the  infinite 
relief  of  his  hopeful  students,  who  thereby  worked  their  way 
through  college  with  great  ease  and  httle  study.  In  the  course 
of  one  of  his  lectures,  the  learned  professor,  seizing  a  bucket  of 
wa,ter,  swung  it  round  liis  head  at  arm's-length.  The  impulse 
with  which  he  threw  the  vessel  from  hun  being  a  centrifugal 
force,  the  retention  of  his  arm  operating  as  a  centripetal 
power,  and  the  bucket,  Avhich  was  a  substitute  for  the  earth, 
describing  a  circular  orbit  round  about  the  globular  head  and 
ruby  visage  of  Professor  Von  Poddingcoft,  which  formed  no 
bad  representation  of  the  sun.  All  of  these  particulars  were 
duly  explained  to  the  class  of  gaping  students  round  him.  He 
apprised  them,  moreover,  that  the  same  principle  of  gTavitation, 
which  retained  the  water  in  the  bucket,  restrains  the  ocean 
from  flying  from  the  earth  in  its  rapid  revolutions ;  and  he 
farther  informed  them,  that  should  the  motion  of  the  earth  be 
suddenly  checked,  it  would  in-continently  fall  into  the  sun, 
through  the  centripetal  force  of  gravitation;  a  most  ruinous 
event  to  this  planet,  and  one  which  would  also  obscure,  though 
it  most  probably  would  not  extmguish,  the  solar  luminary. 
An  unlucky  striphng,  one  of  those  vagrant  geniuses  who  seem 
sent  into  the  world  merely  to  annoy  Avorthy  men  of  the  pud- 
dinghead order,  desirous  of  ascertaming  the  correctness  of  the 
experiment,  suddenly  arrested  the  arm  of  the  professor,  just 
at  the  moment  the  bucket  was  in  its  zenith,  which  immedi- 
ately descended  with  astonishing  precision  upon  the  head  of 
the  philosopher.  A  hollow  sound,  and  a  red-hot  hiss,  attended 
the  contact;  but  the  theory  was  in  the  amplest  maimer  ill  us- 


•  Philos.  Trans  1795,  p.  72.   Idem.  1801,  p.  265.   Nich.  Philos.  Journ.  i.  p  13. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


21 


fcrated,  for  the  unfortunate  bucket  perished  in  the  conflict ;  but 
the  blazing  countenance  of  Professor  Von  Poddingcoft  emerged 
from  amidst  the  waters,  glowing  fiercer  than  ever  with  un- 
utterable indignation,  whereby  the  students  were  marvellously 
edified,  and  departed  considerably  wiser  than  before. 

It  is  a  mortifying  circumstance,  which  j^-eatly  perplexes 
many  a  philosopher,  that  Nature  often  refuses  to  second  his 
elf orts ;  so  that  after  having  invented  one  of  the  most  ingeni- 
ous and  natural  theories  imaginable,  she  will  have  the  per- 
srerseness  to  act  directly  in  the  teeth  of  it.  This  is  a  manifest 
and  unmerited  grievance,  since  it  throws  the  censure  of  the 
vulgar  and  unlearned  entirely  upon  the  philosopher;  whereas 
the  fault  is  to  be  ascribed  to  dame  Nature,  who,  with  the  pro- 
verbial fickleness  of  her  sex,  is  continually  indulging  in  coque- 
tries and  caprices ;  and  who  seems  to  take  pleasure  in  violating 
all  philosophic  rules,  and  jilting  the  most  learned  and  inde- 
fatigable of  her  adorers.  Thus  it  happened  with  respect  to  the 
foregoing  explanation  of  the  motion  of  our  planet ;  it  appears 
that  the  centrifugal  force  has  long  since  ceased  to  operate, 
while  its  antagonist  remains  in  undiminished  potency:  the 
world,  therefore,  ought,  in  strict  propriety,  to  tumble  into  the 
sun;  philosophers  were  convinced  that  it  would  do  so,  and 
awaited  in  anxious  impatience  the  fidfilment  of  their  prog- 
nostics. But  the  untoward  planet  pertinaciously  continued 
her  course,  notwithstanding  that  she  had  reason,  philosophy, 
and  a  whole  university  of  learned  professors,  opposed  to  her 
conduct.  The  philosophers  took  this  in  very  ill  part,  and  it  is 
thought  they  would  never  have  pardoned  the  slight  which 
they  conceived  put  upon  them  by  the  v/orld,  had  not  a  good- 
natured  professor  kindly  officiated  as  a  mediator  between  the 
parties  and  effected  a  reconcihation. 

Finding  the  world  would  not  accommodate  itself  to  the 
theory,  he  Avisely  accommodated  the  theory  to  the  world :  he 
informed  his  brother  philosophers  that  the  circular  motion  of 
the  earth  round  the  sun  was  no  sooner  engendered  by  the  con- 
flicting impulses  above  described,  than  it  became  a  regular 
revolution,  independent  of  the  causes  which  gave  it  origin. 
His  learned  brethren  readily  joined  in  the  opinion,  heartily 
glad  of  any  explanation  that  would  decently  extricate  them 
from  their  embarrassment — and  ever  since  that  era  the  world 
has  been  left  to  take  her  own  course,  and  to  revolve  around 
the  sun  in  such  orbit  as  she  thinks  proper. 


28 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW  TORK. 


CHAPTER  II. 

COSMOGONY,  OR  CREATION  OF  THE  WORLD;  WITH  A  MULTITUDE; 
OF  EXCELLENT  THEORIES,  BY  WHICH  THE  CREATION  OF  A 
WORLD  IS  SHOWN  TO  BE  NO  SUCH  DIFFICULT  MATTER  AS  COM 
MON  FOLK  WOULD  IMAGINE. 

Having  thus  briefly  introduced  my  reader  to  the  world,  and 
given  him  some  idea  of  its  form  and  situation,  he  will  natu- 
rally be  curious  to  know  from  whence  it  came,  and  how  it  was 
created.  And,  indeed,  the  clearing  up  of  these  points  is  abso- 
lutely essential  to  my  history,  inasmuch  as  if  this  world  had 
not  been  formed,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  this  renowned 
island  on  which  is  situated  the  city  of  NeAv-York,  would  never 
have  had  an  existence.  The  regular  course  of  my  history, 
therefore,  requires  that  I  should  proceed  to  notice  the  cosmo- 
gony, or  formation  of  this  our  globe. 

And  now  I  give  my  readers  fair  warning,  that  I  am  about  to 
plunge,  for  a  chapter  or  t-wo,  into  as  complete  a  labyrinth  as 
ever  historian  was  perplexed  withal ;  therefore,  I  advise  them 
to  take  fast  hold  of  my  skirts,  and  keep  close  at  my  heels, 
venturing  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  lest  they 
get  bemired  in  a  slough  of  unintelhgible  learning,  or  have  their 
brains  knocked  out  by  some  of  those  hard  Greek  names  which 
"svill  be  flj^ng  about  in  all  directions.  But  should  any  of  them 
be  too  indolent  or  chicken-hearted  to  accompany  me  in  this 
perilous  undertaking,  they  had  better  take  a  short  cut  round, 
and  wait  for  me  at  the  beginning  of  some  smoother  chapter. 

Of  the  creation  of  the  world,  we  have  a  thousand  contradic- 
toiy  accounts ;  and  though  a  very  satisfactory  one  is  furnished 
us  by  divine  revelation,  yet  every  philosopher  feels  himseK  in 
honour  bound  to  furnish  us  with  a  better.  As  an  impartial 
historian,  I  consider  it  my  duty  to  notice  their  several  theories, 
by  which  mankind  have  been  so  exceedingly  edified  and  in- 
stnicted. 

Thus  it  was  the  opinion  of  certain  ancient  sages,  that  the 
earth  and  the  whole  system  of  the  universe  was  the  deity  him- 
self ;*  a  doctrine  most  strenuously  maintained  by  Zenophanes 
and  the  whole  tribe  of  Eleatics,  as  also  by  Strabo  and  the  sect 


*  Aristot.  ap.  Cic.  lib.  i.  cap  3. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- 70 UK. 


29 


of  peripatetic  philosophers.  Pythagoras  likewise  inculcated 
the  famous  numerical  system  of  the  monad,  dyad,  and  triad, 
and  by  means  of  his  sacred  quaternary  elucidated  the  forma- 
tion of  the  world,  the  arcana  of  nature,  and  the  principles  both 
of  music  and  morals.*  Other  sages  adhered  to  the  mathe- 
matical system  of  squares  and  triangles ;  the  cube,  the  pyra- 
mid, and  the  sphere,  the  tetrahedron,  the  octahedron,  the 
icosahedron,  and  the  dodecahedron,  t  While  others  advocated 
the  great  elementary  theory,  which  refers  the  construction  of 
our  globe,  and  all  that  it  contains,  to  the  combination  of  four 
material  elements— air,  earth,  fire,  and  water ;  with  the  assist- 
ance of  a  fifth,  an  immaterial  and  vivifying  principle. 

Nor  must  I  omit  to  mention  the  great  atomic  system,  taught 
by  old  Moschus,  before  the  siege  of  Troy ;  revived  by  Democ- 
ritus,  of  laughing  memory ;  improved  by  Epicurus,  that  king 
of  good  fellows,  and  modernized  by  the  fanciful  Descartes. 

But  I  dechne  inquiring,  whether  the  atoms,  of  which  the 
earth  is  said  to  be  composed,  are  eternal  or  recent ;  whether 
they  are  animate  or  inanimate;  whether,  agreeably  to  the 
opinion  of  the  atheists,  they  were  fortuitously  aggregated,  or, 
as  the  theists  maintain,  were  arranged  by  a  supreme  intelli- 
gence. X  Whether,  in  fact,  the  earth  be  an  insensate  clod,  or 
whether  it  be  animated  by  a  soul ;  §  which  opinion  was  strenu- 
ously maintained  by  a  host  of  philosophers,  at  the  head  of 
whom  stands  the  great  Plato,  that  temperate  sage,  who  threw 
the  cold  Avater  of  philosophy  on  the  form  of  sexual  intercourse, 
and  inculcated  the  doctrine  of  Platonic  love— an  exquisitely 
refined  intercourse,  but  much  better  adapted  to  the  ideal  inha- 
bitants of  his  imaginary  island  of  Atlantis  than  to  the  sturdy 
race,  composed  of  rebellions  flesh  and  blood,  which  populates 
the  little  matter-of-fact  island  we  inhabit. 

Beside  these  systems,  we  have,  moreover,  the  poetical  the- 
ogony  of  old  Hesiod,  who  generated  the  whole  universe  in  the 
regular  mode  of  procreation;  and  the  plausible  opinion  of 
others,  that  the  earth  was  hatched  from  the  great  egg  of  night, 
which  floated  in  chaos,  and  was  cracked  by  the  horns  of  the 


*  Aristot.  Metaph.  lib.  i.  c.  5.    Idem,  de  Coelo,  1.  iii.  c.  1.  Rousseau  Mem.  sur 
Musique  ancien,  p.  39.   Plutarch  de  Plac.  Philos.  lib.  i.  cap.  3. 
t  Tim.  Locr.  ap.  Plato,  t.  iii.  p.  90. 

X  Aristot.  Nat.  Auscult.  1.  ii.  cap.  6.  Aristoph.  Metaph.  lib.  i.  cap.  3.  Cic.  de  Nat. 
Deor.  lib.  i.  cap.  10.   Justin  Mart.  orat.  ad  gent.  p.  20. 

§Mosheim  in  Cudw.  lib.  i.  cap.  4.  Tim.  de  anim.  mund  ap.  Plat,  lib  iii.  Mem 
de  I'Acad.  des  Belles-Lettr.  t.  xxxil.  p.  19,  et  al. 


30 


A  JITSTOUY  OF  NKWTORK. 


celestial  biill.  To  illustrate  this  last  doctrine,  Burnet,  m  his 
theory  of  the  earth,*  has  favoured  us  with  an  accurate  drawing 
and  description,  both  of  the  form  and  texture  of  this  mundane 
egg;  which  is  found  to  bear  a  marvellous  resemblance  to  that 
of  a  goose.  Such  of  my  readers  as  take  a  proper  interest  in 
the  origin  of  this  our  planet,  will  be  pleased  to  learn,  that  the 
most  profound  sages  of  antiquity,  among  the  Egyptians,  Chal- 
''eans,  Persians,  Greeks,  and  Latins,  have  alternately  assisted 
U  the  hatching  of  this  strange  bird,  and  that  their  cacklings 
have  been  caught,  and  continued  in  different  tones  and  in- 
flections, from  philosopher  to  philosopher,  unto  the  present 
day. 

But  while  briefly  noticing  long-celebrated  systems  of  ancient 
sages,  let  me  not  pass  over  with  neglect  those  of  other  philoso- 
phers ;  which,  though  less  universal  and  renowned,  have  equal 
claims  to  attention,  and  equal  chance  for  correctness.  Thus  it 
is  recorded  by  the  Brahmins,  in  the  pages  of  their  inspired 
Shastah,  that  the  angel  Bistnoo,  transforming  himself  into  a 
great  boar,  plunged  into  the  watery  abyss,  and  brought  up  the 
earth  on  his  tusks.  Then  issued  from  him  a  mighty  tortoise, 
and  a  mighty  snake ;  and  Bistnoo  placed  the  snake  erect  upon 
the  back  of  the  tortoise,  and  he  placed  the  earth  upon  the  head 
of  the  snake,  t 

The  negro  philosophers  of  Congo  afiirm  that  the  world  was 
made  by  the  hands  of  angels,  excepting  their  own  country, 
which  the  Supreme  Being  constructed  himself,  that  it  might  be 
supremely  excellent.  And  he  took  great  pains  with  the  inha- 
bitants, and  made  them  very  black,  and  beautiful ;  and  when 
he  had  finished  the  first  man,  he  was  well  pleased  Avith  him, 
and  smoothed  him  over  the  face ;  and  hence  his  nose,  and  the 
nose  of  all  his  descendants,  became  flat. 

The  Mohawk  pliilosophers  tell  us,  that  a  pregnant  woman 
fell  down  from  heaven,  and  that  a  tortoise  took  her  up  on  its 
back,  because  every  place  was  covered  with  water ;  and  that 
the  woman,  sitting  upon  the  tortoise,  paddled  with  her  hands 
ill  the  water,  and  raked  up  the  earth,  whence  it  finally  hap- 
pened that  the  earth  became  higher  than  the  water.  X 

But  I  forbear  to  quote  a  number  more  of  these  ancient  and 
outlandish  philosophers,  whose  deplorable  ignorance,  in  spite 
of  all  their  erudition,  compelled  them  to  "svrite  in  languages 


*  Book  i.  ch.  3.  t  Holwell,  Gent.  Philosophy. 

X  Johannes  Megapolensis,  Jun.  Account  of  Maquaas  or  Mohawk  Indians.  lGi4. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


31 


•which  but  few  of  my  readers  can  understand ;  and  I  shall  pro- 
ceed briefly  to  notice  a  few  more  intelligible  and  fashionable 
theories  of  their  modern  successors. 

And,  first,  I  shall  mention  the  great  Buffon,  who  conjectures 
that  this  globe  was  originally  a  globe  of  liquid  fire,  scintillated 
from  the  body  of  the  sun,  by  the  percussion  of  a  comet,  as  a 
spark  is  generated  by  the  collision  of  flint  and  steel.  That  at 
first  it  was  surrounded  by  gross  vapours,  which,  cooling  and 
condensing  in  procjess  of  time,  constituted,  according  to  their 
densities,  earth,  water,  and  air;  which  gradually  arranged 
themselves,  according  to  their  respective  gravities,  round  the 
burning  or  vitrified  mass  that  formed  their  centre. 

Hutton,  on  the  contrary,  supposes  that  the  waters  at  first 
were  universally  paramount ;  and  he  terrifies  himseK  with  the 
idea  that  the  earth  must  be  eventually  washed  away  by  the 
force  of  rain,  rivers,  and  mountain  torrents,  until  it  is  con- 
founded with  the  ocean,  or,  in  other  words,  absolutely  dissolves 
into  itself.  Sublime  idea!  far  surpassing  that  of  the  tender- 
hearted damsel  of  antiquity,  who  wept  herseK  into  a  fountam; 
or  the  good  dame  of  Narbonne  in  France,  who,  for  a  volubility 
of  tongue  unusual  in  her  sex,  was  doomed  to  peel  five  hundred 
thousand  and  thirty-nine  ropes  of  onions,  and  actually  run  out 
at  her  eyes  before  half  the  hideous  task  was  accomplished. 

Whiston,  the  same  ingenious  philosopher  who  rivalled  Ditton 
in  his  researches  after  the  longitude,  (for  which  the  mischief- 
loving  Swift  discharged  on  their  heads  a  most  savoury  stanza,) 
has  distinguished  himself  by  a  very  admirable  theory  respect- 
ing the  earth.  He  conjectures  that  it  was  originally  a  chaotic 
corn-it,  which  being  selected  for  the  abode  of  man,  was  removed 
from  its  eccentric  orbit,  and  whirled  round  the  sun  in  its  pre- 
sent regular  motion ;  by  which  change  of  direction,  order  suc- 
ceeded to  confusion  in  the  arrangement  of  its  component  parts. 
The  philosopher  adds,  that  the  deluge  was  produced  by  an  un- 
courteous  salute  from  the  watery  tail  of  another  comet ;  doubt- 
less through  sheer  envy  of  its  improved  condition:  thus 
furnishing  a  melancholy  proof  that  jealousy  may  prevail,  even 
among  the  heavenlj^  bodies,  and  discord  interrupt  that  celestial 
harmony  of  the  spheres  so  melodiously  sung  by  the  poets. 

But  I  pass  over  a  variety  of  excellent  theories,  among  which 
are  those  of  Burnet,  and  Woodward,  and  Whitehurst ;  regret- 
ting extremely  that  my  time  will  not  suffer  me  to  give  them 
the  notice  they  deserve — and  shall  conclude  with  that  of  the 
renowned  Dr.  Darwin.   This  learned  Theban,  who  is  as  much 


32 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


distinguished  for  rhyme  as  reason,  and  for  good-natured  ere 
duHty  as  serious  research,  and  who  has  recommended  him- 
self wonderfully  to  the  good  graces  of  the  ladie??,  by  letting 
them  into  all  the  gallantries,  amours,  intrigues,  and  other 
topics  of  scandal  of  the  court  of  Flora,  has  fallen  upon  a  theory 
worthy  of  his  combustible  imagination.  According  to  his 
opinion,  the  huge  mass  of  chaos  took  a  sudden  occasion  to  ex- 
plode, hke  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  and  in  that  act  exploded  the 
sun— which  in  its  flight,  by  a  similar  convidsion,  exploded  the 
earth— which  in  like  guise  exploded  the  moon — and  thiLS  by  a 
concatenation  of  explosions,  the  whole  solar  system  was  pro- 
duced, and  set  most  systematically  in  motion !  * 

By  the  great  variety  of  theories  here  alluded  to,  every  one 
of  which,  if  thoroughly  examined,  will  be  found  surprisingly 
consistent  in  all  its  parts,  my  unlearned  readers  will  perhaps 
be  led  to  conclude,  that  the  creation  of  a  world  is  not  so  diffi- 
cult a  task  as  they  at  first  imagined.  I  have  shown  at  least  a 
score  of  ingenious  methods  in  which  a  world  could  be  con- 
structed ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  had  any  of  the  philoso- 
phers above  quoted  the  use  of  a  good  manageable  comet,  and 
the  philosophical  warehouse  chaos  at  his  command,  he  would 
engage  to  manufacture  a  planet  as  good,  or,  if  you  would  take 
his  word  for  it,  better  than  this  we  inhabit. 

And  here  I  cannot  help  noticing  the  kindness  of  Providence, 
in  creating  comets  for  the  great  rehef  of  bewildered  philoso- 
phers. By  their  assistance  more  sudden  evolutions  and  transi- 
tions are  effected  in  the  system  of  nature,  than  are  wrought  in 
a  pantomimic  exhibition,  by  the  wonder-working  sword  of 
Harlequin.  Should  one  of  oui'  modem  sages,  in  his  theoretical 
flights  among  the  stars,  ever  find  himself  lost  in  the  clouds, 
and  in  danger  of  tumbling  into  the  abyss  of  nonsense  and  ab- 
surdity, he  has  but  to  seize  a  comet  by  the  beard,  mount 
astride  of  its  tafl,  and  away  he  gallops  in  triumph,  like  an  en- 
chanter on  his  hippogi-ifi,  or  a  Connecticut  witch  on  her  broom- 
stick, "  to  sweep  the  cobwebs  out  of  the  sky." 

There  is  an  old  and  vulgar  saying  about  a  beggar  on  horse- 
back," vvrhioli  I  Vv^ould  not  for  the  world  have  applied  to  these 
reverend  philosophers ;  but  I  must  confess  that  some  of  them, 
when  they  are  mounted  on  one  of  those  fiery  steeds,  are  as 
wild  in  their  curvetings  as  was  Phaeton  of  yore,  when  he  as- 
pired to  manage  the  chai-iot  of  Phoebus.    One  drives  his  comet 


*  Darw.  Bot.  Garden,  Part.  I.  Cant.  i.  1.  105 


A  IIISTORT  OF  NKW-TOUK. 


33 


at  full  speed  against  the  sun,  and  knocks  the  world  out  of  him 
with  the  mighty  concussion ;  another,  more  moderate,  makea 
his  comet  a  mere  beast  of  burden,  carrying  the  sun  a  regular 
supply  of  food  and  fagots ;  a  third,  of  more  combustible  dispo- 
sition, threatens  to  throw  his  comet,  like  a  bombshell,  into  the 
world  and  blow  it  up  like  a  powder-magazine ;  while  a  fourth, 
vv^ith  no  great  delicacy  to  this  planet  and  its  inhabitants,  insin- 
uates that  some  day  or  other  his  comet— my  modest  pen  blushes 
while  I  write  it — shall  absolutely  turn  tail  upon  our  world  and 
deluge  it  with  water! — Surely,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
comets  were  intended  by  Providence  for  the  benefit  of  philoso- 
phers, to  assist  them  in  manufacturing  theories. 

And  now,  having  adduced  several  of  the  most  prominent 
theories  that  occur  to  my  recollection,  I  leave  my  judicious 
readers  at  full  liberty  to  choose  among  them.  They  are  all 
serious  speculations  of  learned  men — all  differ  essentially  from 
each  other— and  all  have  the  same  title  to  belief.  It  has  ever 
been  the  task  of  one  race  of  philosophers  to  demolish  the  works 
of  their  predecessors,  and  elevate  more  splendid  fantasies  in 
their  stead,  which  in  their  turn  are  demolished  and  replaced 
by  the  air-castles  of  a  succeeding  generation.  Thus  it  would 
seem  that  knowledge  and  genius,  of  which  we  make  such  great 
parade,  consist  but  in  detecting  the  errors  and  absurdities  of 
those  who  have  gone  before,  and  devising  new  errors  and  ab- 
surdities, to  be  detected  by  those  who  are  to  come  after  us. 
Theories  are  the  mighty  soap-bubbles  with  which  the  grown- 
up children  of  science  amuse  themselves — while  the  honest 
vulgar  stand  gazing  in  stupid  admiration,  and  dignify  these 
learned  vagaries  with  the  name  of  wisdom ! — Surely,  Socrates 
was  right  in  his  opinion,  that  philosophers  are  but  a  soberer 
sort  of  madmen,  busying  themselves  in  things  totally  incom- 
prehensible, or  which,  if  they  could  be  comprehended,  would 
be  found  not  worth  the  trouble  of  discovery. 

For  my  own  part,  until  the  learned  have  come  to  an  agree- 
ment among  themselves,  I  shall  content  myself  with  the  ac- 
count handed  down  to  us  by  Moses ;  in  which  I  do  but  follow 
the  example  of  our  ingenious  neighbours  of  Connecticut ;  who 
at  their  first  settlement  proclaimed  that  the  colony  should  be 
governed  by  the  laws  of  God— until  they  had  time  to  make 
better. 

One  thing,  however,  appears  certain — from  the  unanimous 
authority  of  the  before-quoted  philosophers,  supported  by  the 
evidence  of  our  own  senses,  (which,  though  very  apt  to  deceive 


34 


A  HISTORY  OF  2s'EW-T0RK. 


US,  may  be  cautiously  admitted  as  additional  testimony,)  it 
appears,  I  say,  and  I  make  the  assertion  deliberately,  without 
fear  of  contradiction,  that  this  globe  really  teas  created^  and 
that  it  is  composed  of  land  and  water.  It  farther  appears  that 
it  is  curiously  divided  and  parcelled  out  into  continents  and 
islands,  among  which  I  boldly  declare  the  renowned  Island  of 
New- York  will  be  found  by  any  one  who  peeks  for  it  in  its 
proper  place. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOW  THAT  FAMOUS  NAVIGATOR,  NOAH,  WAS  SHAMEFULLY  NICK- 
NAMED;  AND  HOW  HE  COMMITTED  AN  UNPARDONABLE  OVER- 
SIGHT IN  NOT  HAVING  FOUR  SONS.  WITH  THE  GREAT  TROUBLE 
OF  PHILOSOPHERS  CAUSED  THEREBY,  AND  THE  DISCOVERY  OF 
AMERICA. 

NoAH,  who  is  the  first  sea-faring  man  we  read  of,  begat  three 
sons,  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet.  Authors,  it  is  true,  are  not 
wanting  who  affirm  that  the  patriarch  had  a  number  of  other 
children.  Thus  Berosus  makes  him  father  of  the  gigantic  Ti- 
tans ;  Methodius  gives  him  a  son  called  Jonithus,  or  Jonicus, 
and  others  have  mentioned  a  son  named  Thuiscon,  from  whom 
descended  the  Teutons  or  Teutonic,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
Dutch  nation. 

I  regret  exceedingly  that  the  nature  of  my  plan  will  not  per- 
mit me  to  gratify  the  laudable  curiosity  of  my  readers,  by  in- 
vestigating minutely  the  history  of  the  great  Noah.  Indeed, 
such  an  undertaking  would  be  attended  with  more  trouble 
than  many  people  would  imagine ;  for  the  good  old  patriarch 
seems  to  have  been  a  great  traveller  in  his  day,  and  to  have 
passed  under  a  different  name  m  every  country  that  he  visited. 
The  Chaldeans,  for  instance,  give  us  his  history,  merely  alter- 
ing his  name  into  Xisuthrus— a  trivial  alteration,  which,  to  a 
historian  skilled  in  etymologies,  will  appear  wholly  imimpor- 
tant.  It  appears,  hkewise,  that  he  had  exchanged  his  tar- 
pawling  and  quadrant  among  the  Chaldeans  for  the  gorgeous 
insignia  of  royalty,  and  appears  as  a  monarch  in  their  annals. 
The  Egyptians  celebrate  him  under  the  name  of  Osiris ;  the  In- 
dians, as  Menu ;  the  Greek  and  Roman  writers  confound  him 
with  Ogyges,  and  the  Theban  with  Deucalion  and  Saturn.  But 
tlie  Chinese,  who  deservedly  rank  among  the  most  extensiva 


A  Ills  TO  BY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


35 


and  authentic  historians,  inasmuch  as  they  have  known  the 
world  much  longer  than  any  one  else,  declare  that  Noah  was 
no  other  than  Fohi ;  and  what  gives  this  assertion  some  air  of 
credibility  is,  that  it  is  a  fact,  admitted  by  the  most  enlight- 
ened hterati,  that  Noah  travelled  into  China  at  the  time  of  the 
building  of  the  tower  of  Babel,  (probably  to  improve  himself 
in  the  study  of  languages,)  and  the  learned  Dr.  Shuckford 
gives  us  the  additional  information,  that  the  ark  rested  on  a 
mountain  on  the  frontiers  of  Cliina. 

From  this  mass  of  rational  conjectures  and  sage  hypotheses, 
many  satisfactory  deductions  might  be  drawn ;  but  I  shall  con- 
tent myself  with  the  simple  fact  stated  in  the  Bible,  viz.,  that 
Noah  begat  three  sons,  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet.  It  is  astonish- 
ing on  what  remote  and  obscure  contingencies  the  great  affairs 
of  this  world  depend,  and  how  events  the  most  distant,  and  to 
the  common  observer  unconnected,  are  inevitably  consequent 
the  one  to  the  other.  It  remains  for  the  philosopher  to  discover 
these  mysterious  affinities,  and  it  is  the  proudest  triumph  of 
his  skill  to  detect  and  drag  forth  some  latent  chain  of  causa- 
tion, which  at  first  sight  appears  a  paradox  to  the  inex- 
perienced observer.  Thus  many  of  my  readers  wiU  doubtless 
wonder  what  connexion  the  family  of  Noah  can  possibly  have 
with  this  history — and  many  will  stare  when  informed  that 
the  whole  history  of  this  quarter  of  the  world  has  taken  its 
character  and  course  from  the  simple  circumstance  of  the 
patriarch's  having  but  three  sons — ^but  to  explain : 

Noah,  we  are  told  by  sundry  very  credible  historians,  becom- 
ing sole  surviving  heir  and  proprietor  of  the  earth  in  fee 
simple,  after  the  deluge,  like  a  good  father,  portioned  out  his 
estate  among  his  children.  To  Shem  he  gave  Asia ;  to  Ham, 
Africa ;  and  to  Japhet,  Europe.  Now  it  is  a  thousand  times  to 
be  lamented  that  he  had  but  three  sons,  for  had  there  been  a 
fourth,  he  would  doubtless  have  inherited  America ;  which,  of 
com^se,  would  have  been  dragged  forth  from  its  obscurity  on 
the  occasion;  and  thus  many  a  hard-working  historian  and 
philosopher  would  have  been  spared  a  prodigious  mass  of 
weary  conjecture  respecting  the  first  discovery  and  population 
of  this  country.  Noah,  however,  having  provided  for  his  three 
sons,  looked  in  all  probability  upon  our  country  as  mere  wild 
unsettled  land,  and  said  nothing  about  it ;  and  to  this  unpar- 
donable taciturnity  of  the  patriarch,  may  we  ascribe  the  mis- 
fortune that  America  did  not  come  into  the  world  as  early  as 
the  other  quarters  of  the  globe. 


36 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEWTORK. 


It  is  true,  some  writers  have  vindicated  him  from  this  mis- 
conduct  towards  posterity,  and  asserted  that  he  really  did 
discover  America.  Thus  it  Avas  the  opinion  of  Mark  Lescarbot, 
a  French  writer,  possessed  of  that  ponderosity  of  thought  and 
profoundness  of  reflection  so  peculiar  to  his  nation,  that  the 
immediate  descendants  of  Noah  peopled  this  quarter  of  the 
globe,  and  that  the  old  patriarch  himself,  who  still  retained  a 
passion  for  the  sea-faring  life,  supermtended  the  transmigia- 
tion.  The  pious  and  enhghtened  father,  Charlevoix,  a  French 
Jesuit,  remarkable  for  his  aversion  to  the  marvellous,  com- 
mon to  all  great  travellers,  is  conclusively  of  the  same  opinion ; 
nay,  he  goes  still  farther,  and  decides  upon  the  manner  in 
which  the  discovery  was  effected,  which  was  by  sea,  and  under 
the  immediate  direction  of  the  great  Noah.  ' '  I  have  already 
observed,"  exclaims  the  good  father,  in  a  tone  of  becoming 
indignation,  "that  it  is  an  arbitrary  supposition  that  the 
grand-children  of  Noah  were  not  able  to  penetrate  into  the  new 
world,  or  that  they  never  thought  of  it.  In  effect,  I  can  see  no 
reason  that  can  justify  such  a  notion.  Who  can  seriously 
beheve  that  Noah  and  his  immediate  descendants  knew  less 
than  we  do,  and  that  the  builder  and  pilot  of  the  greatest  ship 
that  ever  was,  a  ship  which  was  formed  to  traverse  an 
unboimded  ocean,  and  had  so  many  shoals  and  quicksands  to 
guard  against,  should  be  ignorant  of,  or  should  not  have  com- 
municated to  his  descendants,  the  art  of  sailing  on  the  ocean?" 
Therefore,  they  did  sail  on  the  ocean — therefore,  they  sailed  to 
America— therefore,  America  was  discovered  by  Noah. 

Now  all  this  exquisite  chain  of  reasoning,  which  is  so  strik- 
ingly characteristic  of  the  good  father,  being  addressed  to  the 
faith,  rather  than  the  understanding,  is  flatly  opposed  by  Hans 
de  Laert,  who  declares  it  a  real  and  most  ridiculous  paradox,  to 
suppose  that  Noah  ever  entertained  the  thought  of  discovering 
America ;  and  as  Hans  is  a  Dutch  writer,  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
he  must  have  been  much  better  acquainted  with  the  worthy 
crew  of  the  ark  than  his  competitors,  and  of  course  possessed 
of  more  accurate  sources  of  information.  It  is  astonishing 
how  intimate  historians  do  daily  become  with  the  patriarchs 
and  other  great  men  of  antiquity.  As  intimacy  improves 
vv-ith  time,  and  as  the  learned  are  particularly  inquisitive  and 
familiar  in  their  acquaintance  with  the  ancients,  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  some  future  writers  should  gravely  give  us  a 
picture  of  men  and  manners  as  they  existed  before  the  flood, 
far  more  copious  and  accurate  than  the  Bible ;  and  that,  in  the 


A  HISTORY  OF  JS'EW-YOllK. 


87 


course  of  another  century,  the  log-book  of  the  good  Noah 
should  be  as  current  among  historians,  as  the  voyages  oi 
Captain  Cook,  or  the  renowned  history  of  Robinson  Crusoe. 

I  shall  not  occupy  my  time  by  discussing  the  huge  mass 
of  additional  suppositions,  conjectures,  and  probabihties,  re- 
specting the  first  discovery  of  this  country,  with  which  un- 
happy historians  overload  themselves,  in  their  endeavours  to 
satisfy  the  doubts  of  an  incredulous  world.  It  is  painful  to  see 
these  laborious  wights  panting,  and  toiling,  and  sweating 
under  an  enormous  burden,  at  the  very  outset  of  their  works, 
which,  on  being  opened,  turns  out  to  be  nothing  but  a  mighty 
bundle  of  straw.  As,  however,  by  unwearied  assiduity,  they 
seem  to  have  established  the  fact,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the 
world,  that  this  country  has  been  discovered,  I  shall  avail 
myself  of  their  useful  labours  to  be  extremely  brief  upon  this 
point. 

I  shall  not,  therefore,  stop  to  inquire,  whether  America  was 
first  discovered  by  a  wandering  vessel  of  that  celebrated 
Phoenician  fleet,  which,  according  to  Herodotus,  circumnavi- 
gated Africa ;  or  by  that  Carthaginian  expedition,  which  Phny, 
the  naturalist,  informs  us,  discovered  the  Canary  Islands ;  or 
whether  it  was  settled  by  a  temporary  colony  from  Tyre,  as 
hinted  by  Aristotle  and  Seneca.  I  shall  neither  inquire 
whether  it  was  first  discovered  by  the  Chinese,  as  Vossius  with 
great  shrewdness  advances ;  nor  by  the  Norwegians  in  1002, 
under  Biorn ;  nor  by  Behem,  the  German  navigator,  as  Mr. 
Otto  has  endeavoured  to  prove  to  the  savans  of  the  learned 
city  of  Philadelphia. 

Nor  shall  I  investigate  the  more  modern  claims  of  the 
Welsh,  founded  on  the  voj^age  of  Prince  Madoc  in  the  eleventh 
century,  who  having  never  returned,  it  has  since  been  wisely 
concluded  that  he  must  have  gone  to  America,  and  that  for  a 
plain  reason — if  he  did  not  go  there,  where  else  could  he  have 
gone?— a  question  which  most  Socratically  shuts  out  all  farther 
dispute. 

Laying  aside,  therefore,  all  the  conjectures  above  mentioned, 
with  a  multitude  of  others,  equally  satisfactory,  I  shall  take 
for  granted  the  vulgar  opinion,  that  America  was  discovered 
on  the  12th  of  October,  1492,  by  Christovallo  Colon,  a  Genoese, 
who  has  been  clumsily  nicknamed  Columbus,  but  for  what 
reason  I  cannot  discern.  Of  the  voyages  and  adventures  of 
tills  Colon,  I  shall  say  nothing,  seeing  that  they  are  already 
sufficiently  knovm;  nor  shall  I  undertake  to  prove  that  this 


38 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YOBK. 


country  should  have  been  called  Colonia,  after  his  name,  thai 
being  notoriously  self-evident. 

Having  thus  happily  got  my  readers  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  I  picture  them  to  myself,  all  impatience  to  enter  upon 
the  enjoyment  of  the  land  of  promise,  and  in  full  expectation 
that  I  will  immediately  deliver  it  into  their  possession.  But  if 
I  ao,  may  I  ever  forfeit  the  reputation  of  a  regular-bred  his- 
torian !  No — no— most  curious  and  thrice  learned  readers,  (for 
thrice  learned  ye  are,  if  ye  have  read  all  that  has  gone  before, 
and  nme  times  learned  shall  ye  be,  if  ye  read  that  which  comes 
after,)  we  have  yet  a  world  of  work  before  us.  Think  you  the 
fii-st  discoverers  of  this  fair  quarter  of  the  globe  had  nothing 
to  do  but  go  on  shore  and  find  a  country  ready  laid  out  and 
cultivated  hke  a  garden,  wherein  they  might  revel  at  their 
ease?  No  such  thing — they  had  forests  to  cut  down,  under- 
wood to  grub  up,  marshes  to  drain,  and  savages  to  exterminate. 

In  like  manner,  I  have  sundry  doubts  to  clear  away,  ques- 
tions to  resolve,  and  paradoxes  to  explain,  before  I  permit  you 
to  range  at  random ;  but  these  difficulties  once  overcome,  we 
shall  be  enabled  to  jog  on  right  merrily  through  the  rest  of  our 
history.  Thus  my  work  shall,  in  a  manner,  echo  the  nature 
of  the  subject,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  sound  of  poetry  has 
been  found  by  certain  shrewd  critics  to  echo  the  sense — this 
being  an  improvement  in  history,  which  I  claim  the  merit  of 
having  invented. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SHOWING  THE  GREAT  DIFFICULTY  PHILOSOPHERS  HAVE  HAD  IN 
PEOPLING  AMERICA— AND  HOW  THE  ABORIGINES  CAJVIE  TO  BE 
BEGOTTEN  BY  ACCIDENT — TO  THE  GREAT  RELIEF  AND  SATIS- 
FACTION OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

The  next  inquiry  at  which  we  arrive  in  the  regular  course  of 
our  history,  is  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  how  this  country  was 
originally  peopled— a  point  fruitful  of  incredible  embarrass- 
ment ;  for  unless  we  prove  that  the  aborigines  did  absolutely 
come  from  somewhere,  it  will  be  immediately  asserted  in  this 
age  of  scepticism  that  they  did  not  come  at  all ;  and  if  they 
did  not  come  at  all,  then  was  this  country  never  populated — a 
conclusion  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  rules  of  logic,  but  wholly 
irreconcilable  to  every  feeling  of  humanity,  inasmuch  as  it 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


39 


must  syllogistically  prove  fatal  to  the  innumerable  aborigines 
of  tliis  populous  region. 

To  avert  so  dire  a  sophism,  and  to  rescue  from  logical  anni- 
hilation so  many  millions  of  fellow-creatures,  how  many  wings 
of  geese  have  been  plundered !  what  oceans  of  ink  have  been 
ienevolently  drained!  and  how  many  capacious  heads  of 
learned  historians  have  been  addled,  and  for  ever  confounded ! 
i  pause  with  reverential  awe,  when  I  contemplate  the  ponder- 
ous tomes,  in  different  languages,  with  which  they  have 
endeavored  to  solve  this  question,  so  important  to  the  happi- 
ness of  society,  but  so  involved  in  clouds  of  impenetrable 
obscurity.  Historian  after  historian  has  engaged  in  the  end- 
less circle  of  hypothetical  argument,  and  after  leading  us  a 
weary  chase  through  octavos,  quartos,  and  folios,  has  let  us 
out  at  the  end  of  his  work  just  as  wise  as  we  were  at  the 
beginning.  It  was  doubtless  some  philosophical  wild-goose 
chase  of  the  kind  that  made  the  old  poet  Macrobius  rail  in  such 
a  passion  at  curiosity,  which  he  anathematizes  most  heartily, 
as  "an  irksome,  agonizing  care,  a  superstitious  industry  about 
unprofitable  things,  an  itching  humour  to  see  what  is  not  to 
be  seen,  and  to  be  doing  what  signifies  nothing  when  it  is 
done."   But  to  proceed : 

Of  the  claims  of  the  children  of  Noah  to  the  original  popula- 
tion of  this  country,  I  shall  say  nothing,  as  they  have  already 
been  touched  upon  in  my  last  chapter.  The  claimants  next  in 
celebrity,  are  the  descendants  of  Abraham.  Thus  Christoval 
Colon  (vulgarly  called  Columbus)  when  he  first  discovered  the 
gold  mines  of  Hispaniola,  immediately  concluded,  with  a 
shrewdness  that  would  have  done  honour  to  a  philosopher, 
that  he  had  found  the  ancient  Ophir,  from  whence  Solomon 
procured  the  gold  for  embellishing  the  temple  at  Jerusalem; 
nay,  Colon  even  imagined  that  he  saw  the  remains  of  furnaces 
of  veritable  Hebraic  construction,  employed  in  refining  the 
precious  ore. 

So  golden  a  conjecture,  tinctured  with  such  fascinating 
extravagance,  was  too  tempting  not  to  be  immediately  snapped 
at  by  the  gudgeons  of  learning;  and  accordingly,  there  were 
divers  profound  v/riters,  ready  to  swear  to  its  correctness,  and 
to  bring  in  their  usual  load  of  authorities,  and  wise  surmises, 
wherewithal  to  prop  it  up.  Vetablus  and  Bobertus  Stephens 
declared  nothing  could  be  more  clear — Arius  Montanus,  with- 
out the  least  hesitation,  asserts  that  Mexico  was  the  true 
Ophir,  and  the  Jews  the  early  settlers  of  the  country.  While 


40 


^  li'uSTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


Possevin,  Becan,  and  several  other  sagacious  writers,  lug  in  a 
supposed  prophecy  of  the  fourth  book  of  Esdras,  which  being 
inserted  in  the  mighty  hypothesis,  like  the  keystone  of  an 
arch,  gives  it,  in  their  opinion,  perpetual  durability. 

Scarce,  however,  have  they  completed  their  goodly  super- 
structure, than  in  trudges  a  phalanx  of  opposite  authors,  with 
Hans  de  Laert,  the  great  Dutchman,  at  their  head,  and  at  one 
blow  tumbles  the  whole  fabric  about  their  ears.  Hans,  in 
fact,  contradicts  outright  all  the  Israelitish  claims  to  the  first 
settlement  of  this  country,  attributing  all  those  equivocal 
symptoms,  and  traces  of  Christianity  and  Judaism,  which 
have  been  said  to  be  found  in  divei*s  provinces  of  the  new 
world,  to  the  Devil,  who  has  always  affected  to  counterfeit  the 
worship  of  the  true  deity.  "  A  remark,"  says  the  knowing  old 
Padre  d' Acosta,  ' '  made  by  all  good  authors  who  have  spoken 
of  the  rehgion  of  nations  newly  discovered,  and  founded 
besides  on  the  authority  of  the  fathers  of  the  church. " 

Some  writers  again,  among  whom  it  is  with  great  regret  I 
am  compelled  to  mention  Lopez  de  Gomara,  and  Juan  de  Leri, 
insinuate  that  the  Canaanites,  being  driven  from  the  land  of 
promise  by  the  Jews,  were  seized  with  such  a  panic  that  they 
fled  without  looking  behind  them,  until,  stopping  to  take 
breath,  they  found  themselves  safe  in  America.  As  they 
brought  neither  their  national  language,  manners,  nor  features 
with  them,  it  is  supposed  they  left  them  behind  in  the  hurry  of 
their  flight — I  cannot  give  my  faith  to  this  opinion. 

I  pass  over  the  supposition  of  the  learned  Grotius,  who  being 
both  an  ambassador  and  a  Dutchman  to  boot,  is  entitled  to 
great  respect ;  that  North  America  was  peopled  by  a  strolling 
company  of  Norwegians,  and  that  Peru  was  founded  by  a 
colony  from  China — Manco  or  Mango  Capac,  the  first  Incas, 
being  himself  a  Chinese.  Nor  shall  I  more  than  barely  men- 
tion, that  Father  Elircher  ascribes  the  settlement  of  America 
to  the  Egyptians,  Rudbeck  to  the  Scandinavians,  Charron  to  | 
the  Gauls,  Juffredus  Pedri  to  a  skating  party  from  Friesland, 
Mihus  to  the  Celtse,  Marinocus  the  Sicilian  to  the  Romans.  Le 
Compte  to  the  Phoenicians,  Postel  to  the  Moors,  Martyn 
d'Angleria  to  the  Abyssinians,  together  with  the  sage  surmise 
of  De  Laert,  that  England,  Ireland,  and  the  Orcades  may  con- 
tend for  that  honour. 

Nor  will  I  bestow  any  more  attention  or  credit  to  the  idea 
that  America  is  the  fairy  region  of  Zipangri,  described  by  that 
dreaming  traveller,  Marco  Polo,  the  Venetian ;  or  that  it  com- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


41 


prises  the  visionary  island  of  Atlantis,  described  by  Plato. 
Neither  will  I  stop  to  investigate  the  heathenish  assertion  of 
Paracelsus,  that  each  hemisphere  of  the  globe  was  originally 
furnished  with  an  Adam  and  Eve— or  the  more  flattering 
opinion  of  Dr.  Romayne,  supported  by  many  nameless  authori- 
ties, that  Adam  was  of  the  Indian  race— or  the  startlmg  con- 
jecture of  Buffon,  Helvetius,  and  Darwin,  so  highly  honour- 
able to  mankind,  that  the  whole  human  species  is  accidentally 
descended  from  a  remarkable  family  of  monkeys ! 
1  This  last  conjecture,  I  must  own,  came  upon  me  very  sud- 
Ideniy  and  very  ungraciously.  I  have  often  beheld  the  clown 
in  a  pantomime,  Avhile  gazing  in  stupid  wonder  at  the  ex- 
travagant gambols  of  a  harlequin,  all  at  once  electrified  by  a 
sudden  stroke  of  the  wooden  sword  across  his  shoulders.  Lit- 
tle did  I  think  at  such  times,  that  it  would  ever  fall  to  my  lot 
to  be  treated  with  equal  discourtesy;  and  that  while  I  was 
quietly  beholding  these  grave  philosophers,  emulating  the 
eccentric  transformations  of  the  hero  of  pantomime,  they 
woidd  on  a  sudden  turn  upon  me  and  my  readers,  and  with 
one  hypothetical  flourish  metamorphose  us  into  beasts !  I  de- 
termined from  that  moment  not  to  burn  my  fingers  with  any 
more  of  their  theories,  but  content  myself  mth  detailing  the 
different  methods  by  which  they  transported  the  descendants 
of  these  ancient  and  respectable  monkeys  to  this  great  field  of 
theoretical  warfare. 

This  was  done  either  by  migrations  by  land  or  transmigra- 
tions by  water.  Thus,  Padre  Joseph  D'Acosta  enumerates 
three  passages  by  land— first  by  the  north  of  Europe,  secondly 
by  the  north  of  Asia,  and  thirdly  by  regions  southward  of  the 
straits  of  MageUan.  The  learned  Grotius  marches  his  Norwe- 
gians by  a  pleasant  route  across  frozen  rivers  and  arms  of  the 
sea,  through  Iceland,  Greenland,  Estotiland,  and  Naremberga: 
and  various  writers,  among  whom  are  Angleria,  De  Homn, 
and  Buffon,  anxious  for  the  accommodation  of  these  travellers, 
have  fastened  the  two  continents  together  by  a  strong  chain 
of  deductions— by  which  means  they  could  pass  over  dry-shod. 
But  should  even  this  fafl,  Pinkerton,  that  industrious  old  gen- 
tleman who  compiles  books  and  manufactures  geogxaphies, 
has  constructed  a  natural  bridge  of  ice,  from  continent  to  con- 
tinent, at  the  distance  of  four  or  five  miles  from  Behring's 
straits — for  which  he  is  entitled  to  the  grateful  thanks  of  aU 
liie  wandering  aborigines  w^ho  ever  did  or  ever  will  pass 
over  it. 


42 


A  JIISrOUY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


It  is  an  evil  much  to  be  lamented,  that  none  of  the  worthy- 
writers  above  quoted  could  ever  commence  his  work,  without 
immediately  declaring  hostihties  against  every  writer  who  had 
treated  of  the  same  subject.  In  this  particular,  authors  may 
be  compared  to  a  certain  sagacious  bird,  which,  in  building  its 
nest,  is  sure  to  pull  to  pieces  the  nests  of  aU  the  birds  in  the 
neighbourhood.  This  unhappy  propensity  tends  grievously  to 
impede  the  progress  of  sound  knowledge.  Theories  are  at  best 
but  brittle  productions,  and  when  once  committed  to  the 
stream,  they  should  take  care  that,  like  the  notable  pots  which 
were  fellow-voyagers,  they  do  not  crack  each  other. 

My  chief  surprise  is,  that  among  the  many  writers  I  have 
noticed,  no  one  has  attempted  to  prove  that  this  country  was 
peopled  from  the  moon — or  that  the  first  inhabitants  floated 
hither  on  islands  of  ice,  as  white  bears  cruise  about  the  north- 
ern oceans — or  that  they  were  conveyed  hither  by  balloons,  as 
modem  aeronauts  pass  from  Dover  to  Calais— or  by  witch- 
craft, as  Simon  Magus  posted  among  the  stars— or  after  the 
manner  of  the  renowned  Scythian  Abaris,  who,  like  the  New- 
England  witches  on  full-blooded  broomsticks,  made  most 
unheard-of  journeys  on  the  back  of  a  golden  arrow,  given  him 
by  the  Hyperborean  Apollo. 

But  there  is  still  one  mode  left  by  which  this  country  could 
have  been  peopled,  which  I  have  reserved  for  the  last,  because 
I  consider  it  worth  all  the  rest :  it  is — by  accident !  Speaking 
of  the  islands  of  Solomon,  New-Guinea,  and  New-HoUand,  the 
profound  father  Charlevoix  observes,  "in  fine,  all  these  coun- 
tries are  peopled,  and  it  is  j^ossible  some  have  been  so  by  acci- 
dent. Now  if  it  could  have  happened  in  that  manner,  why 
might  it  not  have  been  at  the  same  time,  and  by  the  same 
means,  with  the  other  part  of  the  globe  ?"  This  ingenious  mode 
of  deducing  certain  conclusions  from  possible  premises,  is  an 
improvement  in  syllogistic  skill,  and  proves  the  good  father 
superior  even  to  Archimedes,  for  he  can  turn  the  world  with- 
out anything  to  rest  his  lever  upon.  It  is  only  surpassed  by 
the  dexterity  with  which  the  sturdy  old  Jesuit,  in  another 
place,  cuts  the  gordon  knot — "Nothing,"  says  he,  "is  more 
easy.  The  inhabitants  of  both  hemispheres  are  certainly  the 
descendants  of  the  same  father.  The  common  father  of  man- 
kind received  an  express  order  from  Heaven  to  people  the 
world,  and  accordingly  it  has  been  x^<^opled.  To  bring  this 
about,  it  was  necessary  to  overcome  all  difficulties  in  the  way, 
and  they  have  also  been  overcome  I "  Pious  logician !  How  does 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW -YORK. 


43 


h<3  put  aJl  the  herd  of  laborious  theorists  to  the  bkish,  by  ex- 
plaining, in  five  words,  what  it  has  cost  them  volumes  to 
prove  they  knew  nothing  about. 

From  ail  the  authorities  here  quoted,  and  a  variety  of  others 
which  I  have  consulted,  but  which  are  omitted  through  fear 
of  fatiguing  the  unlearned  reader— I  can  only  draw  the  follow- 
ing conclusions,  which  luckily,  however,  are  sufficient  for  m» 
purpose — First,  that  this  part  of  the  world  has  actually  been 
peopled,  (Q.  E.  D.,)  to  support  which  we  have  living  proofs 
in  the  numerous  tribes  of  Indians  that  inhabit  it.  Secondly, 
that  it  has  been  peopled  m  five  hundred  different  ways,  as 
proved  by  a  cloud  of  authors,  who,  from  the  positiveness 
of  their  assertions,  seem  to  have  been  eye-witnesses  to  the 
fact.  Tliirdly,  that  the  people  of  this  country  had  a  variety 
of  fathers,  which,  as  it  may  not  be  thought  much  to  their 
credit  by  the  conunon  run  of  readers,  the  less  we  say  on  the 
subject  the  better.  The  question,  therefore,  I  trust,  is  for 
ever  at  rest. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN  WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  PUTS  A  MIGHTY  QUESTION  TO  THE  ROUT 
BY  THE  ASSISTANCE  OF  THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON— WHICH  NOT 
ONLY  DELIVERS  THOUSANDS  OF  PEOPLE  FROM  GREAT  EMBAR- 
RASSMENT, BUT  LIKEWISE  CONCLUDES  THIS  INTRODUCTORY 
BOOK. 

The  writer  of  a  history  may,  in  some  respects,  be  likened 
unto  an  adventurous  knight,  who  having  undertaken  a  peril- 
ous enterprise,  by  way  of  estabhshing  his  fame,  feels  bound,  in 
honour  and  chivalry,  to  turn  back  for  no  difficulty  nor  hard- 
ship, and  never  to  shrink  or  quail,  whatever  enemy  he  may 
encounter.  Under  tliis  impression,  I  resolutely  draw  my  pen, 
and  fall  to,  with  might  and  main,  at  those  doughty  questions 
and  subtle  paradoxes,  which,  like  fiery  dragons  and  bloody 
giants,  beset  the  entrance  to  my  history,  and  would  fain  re- 
pulse me  from  the  very  threshold.  And  at  this  moment  a 
gigantic  question  has  started  up,  which  I  must  needs  take  by 
the  beard  and  utterly  subdue,  before  I  can  advance  another 
step  in  my  historic  undertaking ;  but  I  trust  this  ^vill  be  the 
last  adversary  I  shall  have  to  contend  with,  and  that  in  the 


44 


A  niSTORY  OF  NEW-YOllK. 


next  book  i  shall  be  enabled  to  conduct  my  readers  in  trimnph 
into  the  body  of  my  work. 

The  question  wliich  has  thus  suddenly  arisen,  is,  what  right 
had  the  first  discoverers  of  America  to  land  and  take  posses 
sion  of  a  country,  without  first  gaining  the  consent  of  its 
inhabitants,  or  yielding  them  an  adequate  compensation  for 
their  territory  ? — a  question  which  has  withstood  many  fierce 
assaults,  and  has  given  much  distress  of  mind  to  multitudes  of 
kind-hearted  folk.  And,  indeed,  until  it  be  totally  vanquished, 
and  put  to  rest,  the  worthy  people  of  America  can  by  no  means 
enjoy  the  soil  they  inhabit,  with  clear  right  and  title,  and  quiet, 
unsullied  consciences. 

The  first  source  of  right,  by  which  property  is  acquired  in  a 
country,  is  discovery.  For  as  all  manldnd  have  an  equal 
right  to  any  thing  which  has  never  before  been  appropriated, 
so  any  nation  that  discovers  an  uninhabited  country,  and  takes 
possession  thereof,  is  considered  as  enjoying  full  property,  and 
absolute,  unquestionable  empire  therein.* 

This  proposition  bein,:;  admitted,  it  follows  clearly  that  the 
Europeans  who  first  visited  America  were  the  real  discoverers 
of  the  same ;  nothing  being  necessary  to  the  establishment  of 
this  fact,  but  simply  to  prove  that  it  was  totally  uninhabited 
by  man.  This  would,  at  first,  appear  to  be  a  point  of  some 
difficulty,  for  it  is  well  known  that  this  quarter  of  the  world 
abounded  with  certain  animals  that  walked  erect  on  two  feet, 
had  something  of  the  human  countenance,  uttered  certain  un- 
intelligble  sounds  very  much  like  language;  in  short,  had  a 
marvellous  resemblance  to  human  beings.  But  the  zealous 
and  enlightened  fathers,  who  accompanied  the  discoverers,  for 
the  purpose  of  promoting  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  by  establish- 
ing fat  monasteries  and  bishoprics  on  earth,  soon  cleared  up 
this  point,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  holiness  the  Pope, 
and  of  all  Christian  voyagers  and  discoverers. 

They  plainly  proved,  and  as  there  were  no  Indian  writers 
arose  on  the  other  side,  the  fact  was  considered  as  fully 
admitted  and  established,  that  the  two-legged  race  of  animals 
before  mentioned  were  mere  cannibals,  detestable  monsters, 
and  many  of  them  giants — which  last  description  of  vagrants 
have,  since  the  times  of  Gog,  Magog,  and  Goliath,  been  con- 
sidered as  outlaws,  and  have  received  no  quarter  in  either 
history,  chivalry,  or  song.    Indeed,  even  the  philosophic  Bacon 


*  Grotius.   Puffendorf,  b.  v.  c.  4.  Vattel,  b.  i.  c.  18,  Ac. 


A  niSTOEY  OF  NEW- YORE. 


45 


declared  the  Americans  to  be  people  proscribed  by  the  laws 
of  nature,  inasmuch  as  they  had  a  barbarous  custom  of  sacri- 
ficing men,  and  feeding  upon  man's  flesh. 

Nor  are  these  all  the  proofs  of  their  utter  barbarism ;  among 
many  other  writers  of  discernment,  UUoa  tells  us,  ' '  their  im- 
becility is  so  visible,  that  one  can  hardly  form  an  idea  of  them 
different  from  what  one  has  of  the  brutes.  Nothing  disturbs 
the  tranquillity  of  their  souls,  equally  insensible  to  disasters 
and  to  prosperity.  Though  half  naked,  they  are  as  contented 
as  a  monarch  in  his  most  splendid  array.  Fear  makes  no  im- 
pression on  them,  and  respect  as  little."  All  this  is  further- 
more supported  by  the  authority  of  M.  Bouguer :  "  It  is  not 
easy,"  says  he,  "to  describe  the  degree  of  their  indifference 
for  wealth  and  all  its  advantages.  One  does  not  well  know 
what  motives  to  propose  to  them,  when  one  would  persuade 
them  to  any  ser.vice.  It  is  vain  to  offer  them  money;  they 
answer  that  they  are  not  hungry."  And  Vanegas  confirms  the 
whole,  assuring  us  that  "ambition  they  have  none,  and  are 
more  desirous  of  being  thought  strong  and  valiant.  The 
objects  of  ambition  with  us— honour,  fame,  reputation,  riches, 
posts,  and  distinctions — are  unknown  among  them.  So  that 
this  powerful  spring  of  action,  the  cause  of  so  much  seeming 
good  and  real  evil  in  the  world,  has  no  power  over  them.  In  a 
word,  these  unhappy  mortals  may  be  compared  to  children,  in 
whom  the  development  of  reason  is  not  completed." 

Now  aU  these  peculiarities,  although  in  the  unenlightened 
states  of  Greece  they  would  have  entitled  their  possessors  to 
immortal  honour,  as  having  reduced  to  practice  those  rigid 
and  abstemious  maxims,  the  mere  talking  about  which  acquired 
certain  old  Greeks  the  reputation  of  sages  and  philosophers; — 
yet,  were  they  clearly  proved  in  the  present  instance  to  betoken 
a  most  abject  and  brutified  nature,  totally  beneath  the  human 
character.  But  the  benevolent  fathers,  who  had  undertaken 
to  turn  these  unhappy  savages  into  dumb  beasts,  by  dint  of 
argument,  advanced  still  stronger  proofs;  for  as  certain  divines 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  among  the  rest,  Lullus,  affirm — 
the  Americans  go  naked,  and  have  no  beards!— "They  have 
nothing,"  says  Lullus,  "of  the  reasonable  animal,  except  the 
mask." — And  even  that  mask  was  allowed  to  avail  them  but 
little,  for  it  was  soon  found  that  they  were  of  a  hideous  copper 
complexion — and  being  of  a  copper  complexion,  it  was  all  the 
same  as  if  they  were  negroes — and  negroes  are  black,  "and 
black,"  said  the  pious  fathers,  devoutly  crossing  themselves, 


46 


A  HISTORY  OF  JSEW-YORK. 


*'  is  the  colour  of  the  Devil !"  Therefore,  so  far  from  being  able 
to  own  property,  they  had  no  right  even  to  personal  freedom 
— for  hberty  is  too  radiant  a  deity  to  inhabit  such  gloomy 
temples.  All  which  circumstances  plainly  convinced  the 
righteous  followers  of  Cortes  and  Pizarro,  that  these  mis- 
creants had  no  title  to  the  soil  that  they  infested— that  they 
were  a  perverse,  illiterate,  dumb,  beardless,  black-seed — mere 
wild  beasts  of  the  forests,  and,  like  them,  should  either  be 
subdued  or  exterminated. 

From  the  foregoing  arguments,  therefore,  and  a  variety  of 
others  equally  conclusive,  which  I  forbear  to  enumerate,  it  is 
clearly  evident  that  this  fair  quarter  of  the  globe,  when  first 
visited  by  Europeans,  was  a  howling  wilderness,  inhabited  by 
nothing  but  wild  beasts;  and  that  the  transatlantic  visitors 
acquired  an  incontrovertible  property  therein,  by  the  right  of 
discovery. 

This  right  being  fully  estabhshed,  we  now  come  to  the  next, 
which  is  the  right  acquired  by  cultivation.  ' '  The  cultivation 
of  the  soil,"  we  are  told,  "is  an  obligation  imposed  by  nature 
on  mankind.  The  whole  world  is  appointed  for  the  nourish- 
ment of  its  inhabitants ;  but  it  would  be  incapable  of  doing  it, 
was  it  uncultivated.  Every  nation  is  then  obliged  by  the  law 
of  nature  to  cultivate  the  ground  that  has  fallen  to  its  share. 
Those  people,  like  the  ancient  Germans  and  modem  Tartars, 
who,  having  fertile  countries,  disdain  to  cultivate  the  earth, 
and  choose  to  live  by  rapine,  are  wanting  to  themselves,  and 
deserve  to  he  exterminated  as  savage  and  pernicious  beasts.''^* 

Now  it  is  notorious,  that  the  savages  knew  nothing  of  agri- 
culture, when  first  discovered  by  the  Europeans,  but  hved  a 
most  vagabond,  disorderly,  unrighteous  life, — rambling  from 
place  to  place,  and  prodigally  rioting  upon  the  spontaneous 
luxuries  of  nature,  mthout  tasking  her  generosity  to  yield 
them  any  thing  more ;  whereas  it  has  been  most  unquestion- 
ably shown,  that  Heaven  intended  the  earth  should  be 
ploughed  and  sown,  and  manured,  and  laid  out  into  cities, 
and  towns,  and  farms,  and  country-seats,  and  pleasure 
grounds,  and  pubhc  gardens,  all  which  the  Indians  knew 
nothing  about — therefore,  they  did  not  improve  the  talents 
Providence  had  bestowed  on  them  —therefore,  they  were  care- 
less stewards — therefore,  they  had  no  right  to  the  soil— there 
fore,  they  deserved  to  be  exterminated. 


*  Vattel,  b.  i.  ch.  17. 


A  HISrOUT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


47 


It  is  true,  the  savages  might  plead  that  they  drew  all  the 
benefits  from  the  land  which  their  simple  wants  required — they 
found  plenty  of  game  to  hunt,  which,  together  with  the  roots 
and  uncultivated  fruits  of  the  earth,  furnished  a  sufficient 
variety  for  their  frugal  repasts ; — and  that  as  Heaven  merely 
designed  the  earth  to  form  the  abode,  and  satisfy  the  wants  of 
man;  so  long  as  those  purposes  were  answered,  th^  will  of 
Heaven  was  accomplished. — But  this  only  proves  how  unde- 
serving they  were  of  the  blessings  around  them — they  were  so 
much  the  more  savages,  for  not  having  more  wants ;  for  knowl- 
edge is  in  some  degree  an  increase  of  desires,  and  it  is  this  su- 
periority, both  in  the  number  and  magnitude  of  his  desires, 
that  distinguishes  the  man  from  the  beast.  Therefore,  the  In- 
dians, in  not  having  more  wants,  were  very  unreasonable  ani- 
mals ;  and  it  was  but  just  that  they  should  make  way  for  the 
Europeans,  who  had  a  thousand  wants  to  their  one,  and,  there- 
fore, would  turn  the  earth  to  more  account,  and  by  cultivating 
it.  more  truly  fulfil  the  will  of  Heaven.  Besides — Grotius  and 
Lauterbach,  and  Puffendorf,  and  Titius,  and  many  wise  men 
beside,  who  have  considered  the  matter  properly,  have  deter- 
mined that  the  property  of  a  country  cannot  be  acquired  by 
hunting,  cutting  wood,  or  drawing  water  in  it— nothing  but 
precise  demarcation  of  limits,  and  the  intention  of  cultivation, 
can  establish  the  possession.  Now,  as  the  savages  (probably 
from  never  having  read  the  authors  above  quoted)  had  never 
complied  with  any  of  these  necessary  forms,  it  plainly  followed 
that  they  had  no  right  to  the  soil,  but  that  it  was  completely 
at  the  disposal  of  the  first  comers,  who  had  more  knowledge, 
more  wants,  and  more  elegant,  that  is  to  say,  artificial  desires 
than  themselves. 

In  entering  upon  a  newly-discovered,  uncultivated  country, 
therefore,  the  new  comers  were  but  taking  possession  of  what, 
according  to  the  aforesaid  doctrine,  was  theii'  ow^n  property — 
therefore,  in  opposing  them,  the  savages  were  invading  their 
just  rights,  infringing  the  immutable  laws  of  Nature,  and  coun- 
teracting the  wiU  of  Heaven— therefore,  they  were  guilty  of 
impiety,  burglary,  and  trespass  on  the  case — therefore,  they 
were  hardened  offenders  against  God  and  man — therefore,  they 
ought  to  be  exterminated. 

But  a  more  irresistible  right  than  either  that  I  have  men- 
tioned, and  one  which  will  be  the  most  readily  admitted  by  my 
reader,  provided  he  be  blessed  with  bowels  of  charity  and  phi- 
lanthropy, is  the  right  acquired  by  civilization.    AU  the  world 


48 


A  IIISTOIIY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


knows  the  lamentable  state  in  which  these  poor  savages  were 
found — not  only  deficient  in  the  comforts  of  life,  but  what  is 
still  worse,  most  piteously  and  unfortunately  bhnd  to  the  mis- 
erics  of  their  situation.  But  no  sooner  did  the  benevolent  in- 
habitants of  Europe  behold  their  sad  condition,  than  they  im- 
mediately went  to  work  to  ameliorate  and  miprove  it.  They 
introduced  among  them  rum,  gin,  brandy,  and  the  other  com- 
forts of  life — and  it  is  astonishing  to  read  how  soon  the  poor 
savages  learned  to  estimate  these  blessings— they  likewise  made 
known  to  them  a  thousand  remedies,  by  which  the  most  invet- 
erate diseases  are  aUeviated  and  healed ;  and  that  they  might 
comprehend  the  benefits  and  enjoy  the  comforts  of  these  medi- 
cines, they  previously  introduced  among  them  the  diseases 
wliich  they  were  calculated  to  cm^e.  By  these  and  a  variety 
of  other  methods  was  tlie  condition  of  these  poor  savages  won- 
derfully improved ;  they  acquired  a  thousand  wants,  of  which 
they  had  before  been  ignorant ;  and  as  he  has  most  sources  of 
happiness  who  has  most  wants  to  be  gratified,  they  were  doubt- 
lessly rendered  a  much  happier  race  of  beings. 

But  the  most  important  branch  of  civilization,  and  which  has 
most  strenuouslj^  been  extolled  by  the  zealous  and  pious  fathei^ 
of  the  Romish  Church,  is  the  introduction  of  the  Christian 
faith.  It  was  truly  a  sight  that  might  well  inspire  horror,  to 
behold  these  savages  stmnbling  among  the  dark  mountains  of 
paganism,  and  guilty  of  the  most  horrible  ignorance  of  rehgion. 
It  is  true,  they  neither  stole  nor  defrauded ;  they  were  sober, 
f inigal,  continent,  and  faithful  to  their  word ;  but  though  they 
acted  right  habitually,  it  was  all  in  vain,  unless  they  acted  so 
from  precept.  The  new  comers,  therefore,  used  every  method 
to  induce  them  to  embrace  and  practise  the  true  rehgion— ex- 
cept indeed  that  of  setting  them  the  example. 

But  notwithstanding  all  these  comphcated  labors  for  their 
good,  such  was  the  unparalleled  obstmacy  of  these  stubborn 
wretches,  that  they  ungratefully  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
strangers  as  their  benefactors,  and  persisted  in  disbeheving  the 
doctrines  they  endeavoured  to  inculcate ;  most  insolently  alleg- 
ing, that  from  their  conduct,  the  advocates  of  Christianity  did 
not  seem  to  believe  in  it  themselves.  Was  not  this  too  much 
for  human  patience? — would  not  one  suppose  that  the  benign 
visitants  from  Em^ope,  provoked  at  their  incredulity,  and  dis- 
couraged by  their  stift-necked  obstinacy,  would  for  ever  have 
abandoned  their  shores,  and  consigned  them  to  their  original 
ignorance  and  misery?— But  no — so  zealous  were  they  to  effect 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


49 


the  temporal  comfort  and  eternal  salvation  of  these  pagan  infi- 
dels, that  they  even  proceeded  from  the  milder  means  of  per- 
suasion, to  the  more  painful  and  troublesome  one  of  persecution, 
let  loose  among  them  whole  troops  of  fiery  monks  and  furious 
bloodhounds — purified  them  by  fire  and  sword,  by  stake  and 
fagot  ;  in  consequence  of  which  indefatigable  measures,  the 
cause  of  Christian  love  and  charity  was  so  rapidly  advanced, 
that  in  a  ^ery  few  years  nofc  one-fifth  of  the  number  of  unbe-  > 
lievers  existed  in  South  America  that  were  found  there  at  the 
time  of  its  discovery. 

What  stronger  right  need  the  European  settlers  advance  to 
the  country  than  tliis?  Have  not  whole  nations  of  uninfonned 
savages  been  made  acquainted  with  a  thousand  imperious  wants 
and  indispensable  comforts,  of  which  they  were  before  wholly 
ignorant?  Have  the3/  not  been  hterally  hunted  and  smoked 
out  of  the  dens  and  lurking-places  of  ignorance  and  infidehty, 
and  absolutely  scourged  intsO  the  right  path?  Have  not  the 
temporal  things,  the  vain  baubles  and  filthy  lucre  of  this  world, 
which  were  too  aT)t  to  engage  their  worldly  and  selfish  thoughts, 
been  benevolently  taken  from  them?  and  have  they  not,  instead 
thereof,  been  taught  to  set  their  affections  on  things  above?  — 
And  finally,  to  use  the  words  of  a  reverend  Spanish  father,  in 
a  letter  to  his  superior  in  Spain — "  Can  any  one  have  the  pre- 
siunption  to  say,  that  these  savage  pagans  have  yielded  any 
thing  more  than  an  inconsiderable  recompense  to  their  benefac- 
tors, in  surrendering  to  them  a  httle  pitiful  tract  of  this  dirty 
sublunary  planet,  in  exchange  for  a  glorious  inheritance  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven?" 

Here,  then,  are  three  complete  and  undeniable  sources  of  right 
established,  any  one  of  which  was  more  than  ample  to  estabhsh 
a  property  in  the  newly-discovered  regions  of  America.  Now, 
so  it  has  happened  in  certain  parts  of  this  dehghtful  quarter  of 
the  globe,  that  the  right  of  discovery  has  been  so  strenuously 
asserted — the  influence  of  cultivation  so  industriously  extended, 
and  the  progress  of  salvation  and  civilization  so  zealously 
prosecuted,  that,  what  with  their  attendant  wars,  persecutions, 
oppressions,  diseases,  and  other  partial  evils  that  often  hang 
on  the  skirts  of  great  benefits— the  savage  aborigines  have, 
somehow  or  another,  been  utterly  annihilated — and  this  all  at 
once  brings  me  to  a  fourth  right,  which  is  worth  all  the  others 
put  together. — For  the  original  claimants  to  the  soil  being  all 
dead  and  buried,  and  no  one  remaining  to  inherit  or  dispute 
the  son,  the  Spaniards,  as  the  next  immediate  occupants,  en- 


A  IITSTOIIT  OF  NEW  YORK. 


tered  upon  the  possession  as  clearly  as  the  hangman  succeedg 
to  the  clothes  of  the  malefactor— and  as  they  have  Blackstone,* 
and  aU  the  learned  expounders  of  the  law  on  their  side,  they 
may  set  all  actions  of  ejectment  at  defiance— and  this  last 
right  may  be  entitled  the  right  by  extermination,  or  in  other 
words,  the  right  by  gunpowder. 

But  lest  any  scruples  of  conscience  should  remain  on  this 
head,  and  to  settle  the  question  of  right  for  ever,  his  holiness 
Poi:>e  Alexander  VI.  issued  a  bull,  by  which  he  generously 
gi'anted  the  newly-discovered  quarter  of  the  globe  to  the  Span- 
iards and  Portuguese;  who,  thus  having  law  and  gospel  on 
their  side,  and  being  inflamed  with  great  spiritual  zeal,  showed 
the  pagan  savages  neither  favour  nor  affection,  but  prosecuted 
the  work  of  discovery,  colonization,  civilization,  and  extermi- 
nation, with  ten  times  more  fury  than  ever. 

Thus  were  the  European  worthies  who  first  discovered 
America,  clearly  entitled  to  the  soil ;  and  not  only  entitled  to 
the  soil,  but  likemse  to  the  eternal  thanks  of  these  infidel 
savages,  for  having  come  so  far,  endured  so  many  perils  by  sea 
and  land,  and  taken  such  unwearied  pains,  for  no  other  pur- 
pose but  to  improve  their  forlorn,  uncivilized,  and  heathenish 
condition— for  having  made  them  acquainted  with  the  com- 
forts of  life ;  for  having  introduced  among  tliem  the  hght  of 
religion;  and,  finally,  for  having  hurried  them  out  of  the 
world,  to  enjoy  its  reward ! 

But  as  argument  is  never  so  well  understood  by  us  selfish 
mortals  as  when  it  comes  home  to  ourselves,  and  as  I  am  par- 
ticularly anxious  that  this  question  should  be  put  to  rest  for 
ever,  I  will  suppose  a  parallel  case,  by  way  of  arousing  the 
cawAid  attention  of  my  readers. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  by 
astonishing  advancement  in  science,  and  by  profound  insight 
into  that  lunar  philosophy,  the  mere  flickerings  of  which  have 
of  late  years  dazzled  the  feeble  optics,  and  addled  the  shallow 
brains  of  the  good  people  of  our  globe — let  us  suppose,  I  say, 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  by  these  means,  had  arrived 
at  such  a  command  of  their  energies^  such  an  enviable  state  of 
perfectibility,  as  to  control  the  elements,  and  navigate  the 
boundless  regions  of  space.  Let  us  suppose  a  roving  crew  of 
these  soaring  philosophers,  in  the  course  of  an  aerial  voyage  of 


*  Bl.  Com.  b.  ii.  c.  1. 


A  IIISTOIIY  OF  MlW-YOIIK. 


51 


discovery  among  the  stars,  should  chance  to  alight  upon  this 
outlandish  planet. 

And  here  I  beg  my  readers  will  not  have  the  uncharitablo- 
ness  to  smile,  as  is  too  frequently  the  fault  of  volatile  readers, 
when  perusing  the  grave  speculations  of  pliilosophers.  I  am 
far  from  indulging  in  any  sportive  vein  at  present ;  nor  is  the 
supposition  I  have  been  making  so  wild  as  many  may  deem  it. 
It  has  long  been  a  very  serious  and  anxious  question  with  me, 
and  many  a  time  and  oft,  in  the  course  of  my  overwhelming 
cares  and  contrivances  for  the  weKare  and  protection  of  this 
my  native  planet,  have  I  lain  awake  whole  nights  debating  in 
my  mind,  whether  it  were  most  probable  we  should  first  dis- 
cover and  civilize  the  moon,  or  the  moon  discover  and  civilize 
our  globe.  Neither  would  the  prodigy  of  sailing  in  the  air  and 
cruising  among  the  stars  be  a  whit  more  astonishing  and  in- 
comprehensible to  us,  than  was  the  European  mystery  of  navi- 
gating floating  castles,  through  the  world  of  waters,  to  the 
simple  savages.  We  have  already  discovered  the  art  of  coast- 
ing along  the  aerial  shores  of  our  planet,  by  means  of  balloons, 
as  the  savages  had  of  venturing  along  their  sea-coasts  in 
canoes ;  and  the  disparity  between  the  former,  and  the  aerial 
vehicles  of  the  philosophers  from  the  moon,  might  not  be 
greater  than  that  between  the  bark  canoes  of  the  savages  and 
the  mighty  ships  of  their  discoverers.  I  might  here  pursue  an 
endless  chain  of  similar  speculations ;  but  as  they  would  be  un- 
important to  my  subject,  I  abandon  them  to  my  reader,  par- 
ticularly if  he  be  a  philosopher,  as  matters  well  worthy  of  his 
attentive  consideration. 

To  return  then  to  my  supposition — let  us  suppose  that  the 
aerial  visitants  I  have  mentioned,  possessed  of  vastly  superior 
knowledge  to  ourselves ;  that  is  to  say,  possessed  of  superior 
knowledge  in  the  art  of  extermination — riding  on  hippogrifts — 
defended  with  impenetrable  armour— armed  with  concentrated 
sunbeams,  and  provided  Avith  vast  engines,  to  hurl  enormous 
moon-stones :  in  short,  let  us  suppose  them,  if  our  vanity  will 
permit  the  supposition,  as  superior  to  us  in  knowledge,  and 
consequently  in  power,  as  the  Europeans  were  to  the  Indians, 
when  they  first  discovered  them.  All  this  is  very  possible ;  it 
is  only  our  self-sufficiency  that  makes  us  think  otherwise ;  and 
I  warrant  the  poor  savages,  before  they  had  any  knowledge  of 
the  white  men,  armed  in  all  the  terrors  of  glittering  steel  and 
tremendous  gunpowder,  were  as  perfectly  convinced  that  they 
themselves  were  the  wisest,  the  most  virtuous,  powerful,  and 


A  IIlSTOnr  OF  IMiW  YOUK. 


perfect  of  created  beings,  as  are  at  this  present  moment  the 
lordly  inhabitants  of  Old  England,  the  volatile  populace  of 
France,  or  even  the  self-satisfied  citizens  of  this  most  enlight- 
ened republic. 

Let  us  suppose,  moreover,  that  the  aerial  voyagers,  finding 
tliis  planet  to  be  nothing  but  a  howling  wilderness,  inhabited 
by  us,  poor  savages  and  wild  beasts,  shall  take  formal  posses- 
sion of  it  in  the  name  of  his  most  gracious  and  philosophic 
excellency,  the  man  in  the  moon.  Finding,  however,  that 
their  numbers  are  incompetent  to  hold  it  in  complete  subjec- 
tion, on  account  of  the  ferocious  barbarity  of  its  inhabitants, 
they  shall  take  our  worthy  President,  the  King  of  England, 
the  Emperor  of  Hayti,  the  mighty  Bonaparte,  and  the  great 
King  of  Bantam,  and  returning  to  their  native  planet,  shall 
carry  them  to  court,  as  were  the  Indian  chiefs  led  about  as 
spectacles  in  the  courts  of  Europe. 

Then  making  such  obeisance  as  the  etiquette  of  the  court  re- 
quires, they  shall  address  the  puissant  man  in  the  moon,  in,  as 
near  as  I  can  conjecture,  the  following  terms : 

"Most  serene  and  mighty  Potentate,  whose  dominions  ex- 
tend  as  far  as  eye  can  reach,  who  rideth  on  the  Great  Bear, 
useth  the  sun  as  a  looking-glass,  and  maintaineth  imrivalled 
control  over  tides,  madmen,  and  sea-crabs :  We,  thy  liege  sub- 
jects, have  just  returned  from  a  voyage  of  discovery,  in  the 
course  of  which  we  have  landed  and  taken  possession  of  that 
obscure  little  dirty  planet  which  thou  beholdest  rolling  at  a 
distance.  The  five  uncouth  monsters  which  w-e  have  brought 
into  this  august  presence  were  once  very  important  chiefs 
among  their  fellow-savages,  who  are  a  race  of  beings  totally 
destitute  of  the  common  attributes  of  humanity ;  and  differing 
in  every  thing  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  inasmuch  as 
they  carry  their  heads  upon  their  shoulders,  instead  of  under 
their  arms — have  two  eyes  instead  of  one  -  are  utterly  destitute 
of  tails,  and  of  a  variety  of  unseemly  complexions,  particularly 
of  a  horiible  whiteness — instead  of  pea-green. 

'*We  have,  moreover,  found  these  miserable  savages  sunk 
into  a  state  of  the  utmost  ignorance  and  depravity,  every  man 
shamelessly  hving  with  his  own  wife,  and  rearin,^-  his  own 
children,  instead  of  indulging  in  that  community  of  wives  en- 
joined by  the  law  of  nature,  as  expounded  by  the  philosophers 
of  the  moon.  In  a  word,  they  have  scarcely  a  gleam  of  true 
philosophy  among  them,  but  are,  in  fact,  utter  heretics,  igno- 
ramuses, and  barbarians.    Taking  compassion,  therefore,  on 


A  imrOllY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


53 


the  sad  Cv^dition  of  these  subhmary  wretches,  we  have  endea- 
voured, while  we  remained  on  their  planet,  to  introduce  among 
them  the  light  of  reason — and  the  comforts  of  the  moon.  We 
have  treated  them  to  mouthfuls  of  moonshine,  and  draughts 
of  nitrous  oxyde,  which  they  swallowed  with  incredible  vora- 
city, particularly  the  females;  and  we  have  likewise  endea- 
voured to  instil  into  them  the  precepts  of  lunar  philosophy. 
We  have  insisted  upon  their  renouncing  the  contemptible 
shackles  of  religion  and  common  sense,  and  adoring  the  pro- 
found, omnipotent,  and  all-perfect  energy,  and  the  ecstatic, 
immutable,  immoveable  perfection.  But  such  was  the  un- 
paralleled obstinacy  of  these  wretched  savages,  that  they  per- 
sisted in  cleaving  to  their  wives,  and  adhering  to  their  rehgion, 
and  absolutely  set  at  nought  the  sublime  doctrines  of  the  moon 
—nay,  among  other  abominable  heresies,  they  even  w^ent  so  far 
as  blasphemously  to  declare,  that  this  ineffable  planet  was 
made  of  nothing  more  nor  less  than  gi-een  cheese  I" 

At  these  w^ords,  the  great  man  in  the  moon  (being  a  very 
profound  philosopher)  shall  fall  into  a  terrible  passion,  and 
possessing  equal  authority  over  things  that  do  not  belong  to 
him,  as  did  whilome  his  holiness  the  Pope,  shall  forthwith  issue 
a  formidable  bull,  specifying,  "That,  whereas  a  certain  crew 
of  Lunatics  have  lately  discovered,  and  taken  possession  of,  a 
newly-discovered  planet  called  the  earth — and  that  whereas  it 
is  inhabited  by  none  but  a  race  of  two-legged  animals,  that 
carry  their  heads  on  their  shoulders  instead  of  under  their 
arms ;  cannot  talk  the  lunatic  language ;  have  two  eyes  instead 
of  one;  are  destitute  of  tails,  and  of  a  horrible  whiteness, 
instead  of  pea-green— therefore,  and  for  a  variety  of  other  ex- 
cellent reasons,  they  are  considered  incapable  of  possessing 
any  property  in  the  planet  they  infest,  and  the  right  and  title 
to  it  are  confirmed  to  its  original  discoverers.— And  further- 
more, the  colonists  who  are  noAv  about  to  depart  to  the  afore- 
said planet  are  authorized  and  commanded  to  use  every  means 
to  convert  these  infidel  savages  from  the  darkness  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  make  them  thorough  and  absolute  Lunatics." 

In  consequence  of  this  benevolent  bull,  our  philosophic  bene- 
factors go  to  work  with  hearty  zeal.  The;^  seize  upon  our 
fertile  territories,  scourge  us  from  our  rightful  possessions, 
relieve  us  from  our  wives,  and  when  we  are  unreasonable 
enough  to  complain,  they  wiU  turn  upon  us,  and  say :  Miserable 
barbarians !  ungi^ateful  wi^etches !  have  we  not  come  thousands 
of  miles  to  improve  your  worthless  planet?  have  Ave  not  fed 


64 


A  UlSTOUY  OF  JSEW-YORK. 


you  Avith  moonshine?  have  we  not  intoxicated  you  with 
nitrous  oxyde?  docs  not  our  moon  give  you  light  every  night, 
and  have  you  the  baseness  to  murmur,  w^hen  we  claim  a  piti- 
ful return  for  all  these  benefits?  But  finding  that  we  not  only 
persist  in  absolute  contempt  of  their  reasoning  and  disbehef  in 
theii'  philosophy,  but  even  go  so  far  as  daringly  to  defend  our 
property,  their  patience  shall  be  exhausted,  and  they  shall 
resort  to  their  superior  po  .ei-s  of  argument;  hunt  us  with 
hippogriffs,  transfix  us  with  concentrated  sun-beams,  demohsh 
our  cities  with  moon-stones ;  until  having,  by  main  force,  con- 
verted us  to  the  true  faith,  they  shall  gi*aciously  permit  us  to 
exist  in  the  torrid  deserts  of  Arabia,  or  the  frozen  regions  of 
Lapland,  there  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  civilization  and  the 
charms  of  lunar  philosophy,  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the 
reformed  and  enlightened  savages  of  this  comitry  are  kindly 
suffered  to  inhabit  the  inliospitable  forests  of  the  north,  or  the 
impenetrable  wildernesses  of  South  America. 

Thus,  I  hope,  I  have  clearly  proved,  and  strikingly  illus- 
trated, the  right  of  the  early  colonists  to  the  possession  of  this 
country;  and  thus  is  this  gigantic  question  completely  van- 
quished: so  having  manfully  surmounted  all  obstacles,  and 
subdued  all  opposition,  what  remains  but  that  I  should  forth- 
with conduct  my  readers  into  the  city  which  we  have  been 
so  long  in  a  manner  besieging?  But  hold— before  I  i^roceed 
another  step,  I  must  pause  to  take  breath,  and  recover  from 
the  excessive  fatigue  I  have  undergone,  in  preparing  to  begin 
this  most  accurate  of  histories.  And  in  this  I  do  but  imitate 
the  example  of  a  renowned  Dutch  tumbler  of  antiquity,  who 
took  a  start  of  three  miles  for  the  purpose  of  jumping  over  a 
hill,  but  having  run  himself  out  of  breath  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  foot,  sat  himself  quietly  down  for  a  few  moments 
to  blow,  and  then  walked  over  it  at  his  leisure. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORE. 


55 


BOOK  II. 

TREATING  OF  THE  FIRST  SETTLEMENT  OF  THE 
PROVINCE  OF  NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FN  WHICH  ARE  CONTAINED  DIVERS  REASONS  WHY  A  MAN  SHOULD 
NOT  WRITE  IN  A  HURRY.  ALSO,  OF  MASTER  HENDRICK  HUD- 
SON, HIS  DISCOVERY  OF  A  STRANGE  COUNTRY— AND  HOW  HE 
WAS  MAGNIFICENTLY  REWARDED  BY  THE  MUNIFICENCE  OF 
THEIR  HIGH  MIGHTINESSES. 

My  great-gi-andfather,  by  the  mother's  side,  Hermanus  Van 
Clattercop,  when  employed  to  build  the  large  stone  church  at 
Rotterdam,  which  stands  about  three  hundred  yards  to  your 
left  after  you  tm-n  off  from  the  Boomkeys,  and  which  is  so 
conveniently  constructed,  that  all  the  zealous  Christians  of 
Rotterdam  prefer  sleeping  through  a  sermon  there  to  any 
other  church  in  the  city— my  great-grandfather,  I  say,  when 
employed  to  build  that  famous  church,  did,  in  the  first  place, 
send  to  DeKt  for  a  box  of  long  pipes ;  then,  having  purchased, 
a  new  spitting-box  and  a  hundred  weight  of  the  best  Virginia, 
he  sat  himself  down,  and  did  nothing  for  the  space  of  three 
months  but  smoke  most  laboriously.  Then  did  he  spend  full 
three  months  more  in  trudging  on  foot,  and  voyaging  in  trck- 
schuit,  from  Rotterdam  to  Amsterdam — to  Delft  —to  Haerlem — 
to  Leyden— to  the  Hague,  knocking  Ms  head  and  breaking  his 
pipe  against  every  church  in  his  road.  Then  did  he  advance 
gradually  nearer  and  nearer  to  Rotterdam,  until  he  came  in 
full  sight  of  the  identical  spot  whereon  the  church  was  to  be 
built.  Then  did  he  spend  three  months  longer  in  walking 
round  it  and  round  it,  contemplating  it,  first  from  one  pomt  of 
view,  and  then  from  another— now  would  he  be  paddled  by  it 
on  the  canal — now  would  he  peep  at  it  through  a  telescope, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Meuse,  and  now  would  he  take  ^ 


A  IIJSTOllT  OV  NEW  TORK. 

bird's-eye  glance  at  it,  from  the  top  of  one  of  those  gigantic 
vviiidmills  ^vhich  protect  the  gates  of  the  city.    The  good  foLc, 
of  the  place  were  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation  and  unpatienco 
-notwithstanding  all  the  turmoil  of  my  great-grandfather, 
not  a  symptom  of  the  clmrch  was  yet  to  be  seen;  they  even 
began  to  fear  it  would  never  be  brought  mto  the  world,  but 
that  its  Ri-eat  projector  would  lie  down  and  die  m  labour  of 
i'ty  plan  he  had  conceived.    At  length,  ha.-mg  ocou- 
pie^a  twelve  good  months  in  puffing  and  paddling  and  talkmg 
S  walking-having  travelled  over  all  HoUand,  and  even 
taken  a  peep  into  France  and  Germany-ha.-ing  smoked  five 
hmrdred  and  ninety-nine  pipes,  and  three  hundred  weight 
the  best  Virginia  tobacco-my  great-granofather  gathered  to- 
gether all  that  knowing  and  industrious  class  of  citizens  who 
prefer  attending  to  any  body's  business  sooner  than  their  own 
and  having  puUed  off  his  coat  and  five  pan-  o£  breeches,  he 
advanced  sturdily  up,  and  laid  the  corner-stone  of  the  church, 
^Ihe  presence  of  the  whole  multitude-just  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  thirteenth  month.  _ 

In  a  similar  manner,  and  ^vith  the  example  ox  my  worthy 
ancestor  full  before  my  eyes,  have  I  proceeded  m  ^^ting  this 
most  authentic  history.   The  honest  Rotterdamers  no  doubt 
thought  my  great-grandfather  was  doing  nothing  at  all  to  the 
pm-ptse,  Afle  he  was  maldng  such  a  world  of  prefatory 
bustle  about  the  buildmg  of  his  church-and  many  of  the  m- 
gen  ous  inhabitants  of  this  fail-  city  will  "!^"ftionably  sup- 
lose  that  an  the  preliminary  chapters,  mth  the  discovery, 
rp^lation,  and  final  settlement  of  America,  were  irre- 
levant  and  si.perfiuous-and  that  the  maan  business,  the  his- 
tory of  New  Tork,  is  not  a  jot  more  advanced  than  if  I  had 
never  taken  up  my  pen.    Never  were  J^^^^^lt 
taken  in  their  conjectures;  in  consequence  of  gomg  tojoi^ 
slowly  and  deUberately,  the  church  came  out  of  my  giand- 
f-ther's  hands  one  of  the  most  sumptuous,  goodly,  and  glorious 
ecUfices  in  the  known  world-excepting  that,  like  our  magni- 
ficent capitol,  at  Washington,  it  was  begim  on  so  g^aiid  a  scale 
that  the  good  folks  could  not  afford  to  finish  more  than  the 
wing  of  ft.    So,  hkewise,  I  tn.ist,  if  ever  I  am  able  to  finish 
this  work  on  the  plan  I  have  commenced,  (of  which,  m  simple 
truth,  I  sometimes  have  my  doubts,)  it  will  be  ^hat  I 

have  pursued  the  latest  ndes  of  my  art,  as  exemplified  m  the 
writings  of  all  the  great  American  historians,  and  wrought  ^ 
verv  larsre  historv  out  of  a  small  snbject-which  now-a-rtays  .s 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK 


57 


considered  one  of  the  great  triumphs  of  historic  skill.  To  pro- 
ceed, then,  with  the  thread  of  my  story. 

Ill  the  ever- memorable  year  of  our  Lord,  1009,  on  a  Satur- 
day morning,  the  five-and- twentieth  day  of  March,  old  style,  did 
that  "worthy  and  irrecoverable  discoverer,  (as  he  has  justly 
deen  called,)  Master  Henry  Hudson,"  set  sail  from  Holland  in  a 
stout  vessel  called  the  Half  Moon,  being  employed  by  the  Dutch 
East  India  Company,  to  seek  a  north-west  passage  to  China. 

Henry  (or,  as  the  Dutch  liistorians  call  him,  Hendrick) 
Hudson,  was  a  sea  farmg  man  of  renown,  who  had  learned  to 
smoke  tobacco  under  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  and  is  said  to  have 
been  the  first  to  introduce  it  into  Holland,  which  gained  him 
much  popularity  in  that  country,  and  caused  him  to  find  great 
favour  in  the  eyes  of  their  High  Mightinesses,  the  Lords  States 
General,  and  also  of  the  honourable  W est  India  Company, 
He  w^as  a  short,  square,  brawny  old  gentleman,  with  a  double 
chin,  a  mastiff  mouth,  and  a  broad  copper  nose,  which  was 
supposed  in  those  days  to  have  acquired  its  fiery  hue  from 
the  constant  neighbourhood  of  his  tobacco-pipe. 

He  wore  a  tme  Andrea  Fcrrara,  tucked  in  a  leathern  belt, 
and  a  commodore's  cocked  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head.  He 
was  remarkable  for  always  jerking  up  his  breeches  when  he 
gave  out  his  orders;  and  his  voice  sounded  not  unhke  the 
brattling  of  a  tin  trumpet — owing  to  the  number  of  hard 
north- westers  which  he  had  swallowed  in  the  course  of  his  sea- 
faring. 

Such  was  Hendrick  Hudson,  of  whom  we  have  heard  so 
much,  and  know  so  little :  and  I  have  been  thus  particular  in 
his  description,  for  the  benefit  of  modern  painters  and  statu- 
aries, that  they  may  represent  him  as  he  v/as ;  and  not,  accord- 
ing to  their  common  custom  with  modern  heroes,  make  him 
look  Like  Ceesar,  or  Marcus  Aurelius,  or  the  Apollo  of  Belvi- 
dere. 

As  chief  mate  and  favourite  companion,  the  commodore 
3hose  master  Robert  Juet,  of  Limehouse,  in  England.  By 
some  his  name  has  been  spelled  Chewit,  and  ascribed  to  the 
circumstance  of  his  having  been  the  first  man  that  ever 
chewed  tobacco;  but  this  I  believe  to  be  a  mere  flippancy; 
more  especially  as  certain  of  his  progen3y"  are  living  at  this 
day,  who  write  their  name  Juet.  He  w^as  an  old  comrade  and 
early  schoolmate  of  the  great  Hudson,  with  whom  he  had 
often  played  truant  and  sailed  chip  boats  in  a  neighbouring 
pond,  when  they  were  little  boys — from  whence  it  is  said  the 


58 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


commodore  first  derived  his  bias  towards  a  sea-faring  life. 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  old  people  about  Limehouse  declared 
Robert  Juet  to  be  an  unlucky  urchin,  prone  to  mischief,  that 
would  one  day  or  other  come  to  the  gallows. 

He  grew  up  as  boys  of  that  kind  often  grow  up,  a  rambling, 
heedless  varlet,  tossed  about  in  all  quarters  of  the  world — 
meeting  with  more  perils  and  wonders  than  did  Sindbad  the 
Sailor,  without  growing  a  whit  more  wise,  prudent,  or  ill- 
natured.  Under  every  misfortune,  he  comforted  himself  with 
a  quid  of  tobacco,  and  the  truly  philosophic  maxim,  that  ' '  it 
wall  be  all  the  same  thing  a  hundred  years  hence."  He  was 
skilled  in  the  art  of  carving  anchors  and  true-lovers'  knots  on 
the  bulk-heads  and  quarter-railings,  and  was  considered  a  great 
wit  on  board  ship,  in  consequence  of  his  playing  pranks  on 
every  body  around,  and  now  and  then  even  making  a  wry 
face  at  old  Hendrick,  when  his  back  was  turned. 

To  this  universal  genius  are  we  indebted  for  many  parti- 
culars concerning  this  voyage;  of  which  he  wrote  a  history, 
at  the  request  of  the  commodore,  who  had  an  unconquerable 
aversion  to  writing  himself,  from  having  received  so  many 
floggings  about  it  when  at  school.  To  supply  the  deficiencies 
of  master  Juet's  journal,  which  is  written  with  true  log-book 
brevity,  I  have  availed  myself  of  divers  family  traditions, 
handed  down  from  my  great-great-grandfather,  who  accom- 
panied the  expedition  in  the  capacity  of  cabin-boy. 

From  all  that  I  can  learn,  few  incidents  worthy  of  remark 
happened  in  the  voyage ;  and  it  mortifies  me  exceedingly  that 
I  have  to  admit  so  noted  an  expedition  into  my  work,  without 
making  any  more  of  it. 

Sufiice  it  to  say,  the  voyage  was  prosperous  and  tranquil — 
the  crew  being  a  patient  people,  much  given  to  slumber  and 
vacuity,  and  but  little  troubled  with  the  disease  of  thinking— a 
malady  of  the  mind,  which  is  the  sure  breeder  of  discontent, 
Hudson  had  laid  in  abundance  of  gin  and  soarkrout,  and  every 
man  was  allowed  to  sleep  quie  tly  at  his  post  unless  the  wind 
blew  True  it  is,  some  shght  disaffection  was  shown  on  two 
or  three  occasions,  at  certain  unreasonable  conduct  of  Com- 
modore Hudson.  Thus,  for  instance,  he  forbore  to  shorten 
sail  when  the  wind  was  light,  and  the  weather  serene,  which 
was  considered,  among  the  most  experienced  Dutch  seamen, 
as  certain  iceafher-brceders,  or  prognostics,  that  the  weather 
would  change  for  the  woi-se.  He  acted,  moreover,  in  direct 
contradiction  to  that  ancient  and  sage  rule  of  the  Dutch  navi- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK 


59 


gators,  who  alwas  took  in  sail  at  night — put  the  hehn  a-port, 
and  turned  in— by  which  precaution  they  had  a  good  night's 
rest — were  sure  of  knowing  where  they  were  the  next  morning, 
and  stood  but  little  chance  of  running  dow^n  a  continent  in  the 
dark.  He  likemse  prohibited  the  seamen  from  wearing  more 
than  five  jackets  and  six  pair  of  breeches,  under  pretence  of 
rendering  them  more  alert ;  and  no  man  was  permitted  to  go 
aloft,  and  hand  in  sails  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  as  is  the  in- 
variable Dutch  custom  at  the  present  day.  All  these  griev- 
ances, though  they  might  rufiie  for  a  moment  the  constitu- 
tional tranquillity  of  the  honest  Dutch  tars,  made  but  transient 
impression;  they  eat  hugely,  drank  profusely,  and  slept  im- 
measurably, and  being  under  the  especial  guidance  of  Pro- 
vidence, the  ship  was  safely  conducted  to  the  coast  of  America; 
where,  after  sundry  unimportant  touchings  and  standings  off 
and  on,  she  at  length,  on  the  fourth  day  of  September,  entered 
that  majestic  bay,  which  at  this  day  expands  its  ample  bosom 
before  the  city  of  New- York,  and  w^hich  had  never  before  been 
visited  by  any  European.* 

It  has  been  traditionary  in  our  family,  that  when  the  greax 
navigator  was  first  blessed  with  a  view  of  this  enchanting 
Island,  he  was  observed,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  his 
life,  to  exhibit  strong  symptoms  of  astonishment  and  admi- 
ration.   He  is  said  to  have  turned  to  master  Juet,  and 


*  True  it  is— and  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  in  a  certain  apocryphal  book 
of  voyages,  compiled  by  one  Hakluyt,  is  to  be  fonnd  a  letter  written  to  Francis  the 
First,  by  one  Giovanne,  or  John  Verazzani.  on  which  some  writers  are  inclined  to 
found  a  belief  that  this  delightful  bay  had  been  visited  nearly  a  century  previous  to 
the  voyage  of  the  enterprising  Hudson.  Now  this  (albeit  it  has  met  with  the  coun- 
tenance of  certain  very  judicious  and  learned  men)  I  hold  in  utter  disbelief,  and 
that  for  various  good  and  substantial  reasons:  i^ms^.  Because  on  strict  examina- 
tion it  will  be  found,  that  the  description  given  b.y  this  Verazzani  applies  about  as 
well  to  the  bay  of  New-York  as  it  does  to  my  night-cap.  Secovdh/,  Because  that  this 
John  Verazzani,  for  whom  I  already  begin  to  feel  a  most  bitter  enmJty.  is  a  native 
of  Florence;  and  every  body  knows  the  crafty  wiles  of  these  losel  Florentines,  by 
which  they  filched  away  the  laurels  from  the  brows  of  the  im.mortal  Colon,  (vulgar- 
ly called  Columbus,)  and  bestowed  them  on  their  otScious  townsman.  Amerigo 
Vespucci;  and  I  make  no  doubt  they  are  equally  ready  to  rob  the  illustrious  Hud- 
son of  the  credit  of  discovering  this  beautiful  island,  adorned  by  '-he  city  of  New- 
York,  and  placing  it  beside  their  usurped  discovery  of  South  America.  And, 
thirdly.  I  award  my  decision  in  favour  of  the  pretensions  of  Hendrick  Hudson,  in- 
asmuch as  his  expedition  sailed  from  Holland,  being  truly  and  absolutely  a  Dutch 
enterprise— and  though  all  the  proofs  in  the  world  were  introduced  on  the  other 
side,  I  would  set  them  at  nought,  as  undeserving  my  attention.  If  these  three 
reasons  be  not  sutTicient  to  satisfy  every  burgher  of  this  ancieiit  city— all  I  can  say 
is,  they  are  degenerate  descendants  from  their  venerable  Dutch  ancestors,  and 
totally  unw^orthy  the  trouble  of  convincing.  Thus,  therefore,  the  title  of  Hendrick 
Hudsop  to  his  renowned  discovery  is  fully  vindicated. 


60 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW- TORE. 


uttered  these  remarkable  words,  while  he  pointed  towards 
this  paradise  of  the  new  world — ''See!  there!" — and  there- 
upon, as  was  always  his  way  when  he  was  uncommonly 
pleased,  he  did  putf  out  such  clouds  of  dense  tobacco-smoke, 
that  in  one  minute  the  vessel  was  out  of  sight  of  land,  and 
master  Juet  was  fain  to  wait  until  the  winds  dispersed  this 
impenetrable  fog. 

It  was  indeed — as  my  gi-eat-gi-eat-gi-andfather  used  to  say 
— though  in  truth  I  never  heard  him,  for  he  died,  as  might 
be  expected,  before  I  was  born — "it  was  indeed  a  spot  on 
which  the  eye  might  have  revelled  for  ever,  in  ever-new 
and  never-ending  beauties.''  The  island  of  Mannahata  spread 
wide  before  them,  like  some  sweet  vision  of  fancy,  or  some 
fair  creation  of  industrious  magic.  Its  hills  of  smihng  green 
swelled  gently  one  above  another,  crowned  with  lofty  trees 
of  luxuriant  growth;  some  pointing  their  tapering  foliage 
towards  the  clouds,  which  were  gloriously  transparent;  and 
others  loaded  with  a  verdant  burthen  of  clambering  vines, 
bowing  their  branches  to  the  earth,  that  was  covered  with 
flowers.  On  the  gentle  dechvities  of  the  hills  were  scattered, 
in  ga,y  profusion,  the  dog-wood,  the  sumach,  and  the  wild 
brier,  whose  scarlet  berries  and  white  blossoms  glowed 
brightly  among  the  deep  green  of  the  surrounding  fohage; 
and  here  and  there  a  curling  column  of  smoke  rising  from 
the  little  glens  that  opened  along  the  shore,  seemed  to  promise 
the  weary  voyagers  a  welcome  at  the  hands  of  their  fellow- 
creatures.  As  they  stood  gazing  with  entranced  attention 
on  the  scene  before  them,  a  red  man,  crowned  with  feathers, 
issued  from  one  of  these  glens,  and  after  contemplating  in 
silent  wonder  the  gallant  ship,  as  she  sat  like  a  stately  swan 
swimming  on  a  silver  lake,  sounded  the  war-whoop,  and 
bounded  into  the  woods  hke  a  wild  deer,  to  the  utter  astonish- 
ment of  the  plilegmatic  Dutchmen,  who  had  never  heard  such 
a  noise,  or  witnessed  such  a  caper,  in  their  whole  lives. 

Of  the  transactions  of  our  adventurers  with  the  savages, 
and  how  the  latter  smoked  coi^per  pipes,  and  ate  dried  cur- 
rants; how  they  brought  gi'cat  store  of  tobacco  and  oystei'S; 
how  they  shot  one  of  the  ship's  crew,  and  how  he  was  buried, 
I  shall  say  nothing;  being  that  I  consider  them  unimportant 
to  my  history.  After  tarrying  a  few  days  in  the  bay,  in  order 
to  refresh  themselves  after  their  sea-faring,  our  voyagers 
weighed  anchor,  to  explore  a  mighty  river  which  emptied  into 
the  bay.    Tiiis  river,  it  is  said,  was  known  among  the  savages 


A  UISTOUY  OF  NEW -YORK. 


61 


by  the  name  of  the  Shatemuck;  though  we  are  assured,  in  an 
excellent  little  history  published  in  1G74,  by  John  Josselyn, 
Gent.,  tliat  it  was  called  the  Mohegan*  and  master  Richard 
Bloonie,  who  wrote  some  time  afterwards,  asserts  the  same— so 
that  1  very  much  incline  in  favour  of  the  opinion  of  these 
two  honest  gentlemen.  Bo  this  as  it  may,  up  this  river  did 
the  adventurous  Hendrick  proceed,  little  doubting  but  it 
would  turn  out  to  be  the  much-looked-for  passage  to  China ! 

The  journal  goes  on  to  make  mention  of  divers  interviews 
between  the  crew  and  the  natives,  in  the  voyage  up  the 
river ;  but  as  they  would  be  impertinent  to  my  history,  I  shall 
pass  over  them  in  silence,  except  the  following  dry  joke, 
played  off  by  the  old  commodore  and  his  school-fellov/,  Robert 
Juet,  which  does  such  vast  credit  to  their  experimental  ptilo- 
sophy,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  inserting  it.  "Our  master 
and  his  mate  determined  to  try  some  of  the  chiefe  men  of  the 
countrey,  whether  they  had  any  treacherie  in  them.  So  they 
tooke  them  downe  into  the  cabin  and  gave  them  so  much  wine 
and  aqua  vitre,  that  they  were  all  merrie;  and  one  of  them 
had  his  wife  with  him,  which  sate  so  modestly,  as  any  of  our 
countrey  women  would  do  in  a  strange  place.  In  the  end  one 
of  them  was  drunke,  which  had  been  aboarde  of  our  ship  all 
the  time  that  we  had  been  there,  and  that  was  strange  to  them, 
for  they  could  not  tell  how  to  take  it."t 

Having  satisfied  himself  by  this  ingenious  experiment,  that 
the  natives  were  an  honest,  social  race  of  jolly  roysiers,  who 
had  no  objection  to  a  drinking  bout,  and  were  very  merry  in 
their  cups,  the  old  comm.odore  chuckled  hugely  to  himself,  and 
thrusting  a  double  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek,  directed  mas- 
ter Juet  to  have  it  carefully  recorded,  for  the  satisfaction  of 
all  the  natural  philosophers  of  the  university  of  Ley  den — 
which  done,  he  proceeded  on  his  voyage,  with  great  self-compla- 
cency. After  sailing,  however,  above  a  hundred  miles  up  the 
river,  he  found  the  watery  world  around  him  began  to  grow 
more  shallow  and  confined,  the  current  more  rapid,  and  per- 
fectly fresh — phenomena  not  uncommon  in  the  ascent  of 
rivers,  but  which  puzzled  the  honest  Dutchmen  prodigiously. 
A  consultation  was  therefore  called,  and  having  deliberated 
full  six  hours,  they  were  brought  to  a  determination,  by  the 
ship's  running  aground — whereupon  they  unanimously  com 

*Thi.s  river  is  likewise  laid  down  in  Ogilvy's  map  as  Manhattan — Noordt — Mou' 
tai{2:ne  and  Mauritius  river. 
+  Juet's  Journ.  Purch.  Pil. 


62 


A  IIL^TOJIY  OF  JS'KW  YORK. 


eluded,  that  there  was  but  httle  chance  of  getting  to  China  in 
this  direction.  A  boat,  however,  was  despatched  to  explore 
higher  up  the  river,  which,  on  its  return,  confirmed  the 
0])inion— upon  this  the  ship  was  warped  oif  and  put  about,  vnth 
great  difficulty,  being,  like  most  of  her  sex,  exceedingly  hard 
to  govern ;  and  the  adventurous  Hudson,  according  to  the  ac- 
count of  my  great-gi*eat-grandfather,  returned  down  the  rivei* 
— with  a  prodigious  flea  in  his  ear ! 

Being  satisfied  that  there  was  httle  hkelihood  of  getting  to 
China,  unless,  lilce  the  blind  man,  he  returned  from  whence  he 
set  out,  and  took  a  fresh  start,  he  forthwith  recrossed  the  sea 
to  Holland,  where  he  was  received  with  great  welcome  by  the 
honourable  East  India  Company,  who  very  much  rejoiced  to 
see  him  come  back  safe — with  their  ship ;  and  at  a  large  and 
respectable  meeting  of  the  first  merchants  and  burgomasters  of 
Amsterdam,  it  was  unanimously  detei-mined,  that  as  a  munifi- 
cent reward  for  the  eminent  services  he  had  performed,  and 
the  important  discovery  he  had  made,  the  great  river  Mohegan 
should  be  called  after  his  name ! — and  it  continues  to  be  called 
Hudson  river  unto  this  very  day. 


CHAPTER  n. 

CONTAINING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  A  MIGHTY  ARK,  WHICH  FLOATED, 
UNDER  THE  PROTECTION  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS,  FROM  HOLLAND  TO 
GIBBET  ISLAND — THE  DESCENT  OF  THE  STRANGE  ANIMALS  THERE- 
FROBI— A  GREAT  VICTORY,  AND  A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  ANCIENT 
VILLAGE  OF  COmiUNIPAW. 

The  delectable  accounts  given  by  the  gi^eat  Hudson,  and 
m.aster  Juet,  of  the  country  they  had  discovered,  excited  not  a 
Uttle  talk  and  speculation  among  the  good  people  of  Holland. 
Letters-patent  were  granted  by  government  to  an  association 
of  merchants,  called  the  West  India  Company,  for  the  exclusive 
trade  on  Hudson  river,  on  wliich  they  erected  a  trading  house 
called  Fort  Aurania,  or  Orange,  from  whence  did  spring  the 
great  city  of  Albany.  But  I  forbear  to  dwell  on  the  various 
commercial  and  colonizing  enterprises  which  took  place ;  among 
which  was  that  of  Mynheer  Adrian  Block,  who  discovered  and 
^ve  a  name  to  Block  Island,  since  famous  for  its  cheese— and 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


6B 


shall  barely  confine  myself  to  that  which  gave  birth  to  this  re- 
nowned city. 

It  was  some  three  or  four  years  after  the  return  of  the  im- 
mortal Ilcndrick,  that  a  crew  of  honest,  Low  Dutch  colonists 
set  sail  from  the  city  of  Amsterdam  for  the  shores  of  America. 
It  is  an  irreparable  loss  to  history,  and  a  great  proof  of  the 
darkness  of  the  age,  and  the  lamentable  neglect  of  the  noble  art 
of  book-making,  since  so  industriously  cultivated  by  knowing 
sca-captams,  and  learned  supercargoes,  that  an  expedition  so 
interesting  and  important  in  its  results,  should  be  passed  over 
in  utter  silence.  To  my  great-great-grandfather  am  I  again 
indebted  for  the  few  facts  I  am  enabled  to  give  concerning  it — 
he  having  once  more  embarked  for  this  country,  with  a  full 
determination,  as  he  said,  of  ending  his  days  here— and  of  be- 
getting a  race  of  Knickerbockers,  that  should  rise  to  be  great 
men  in  the  land. 

The  sliip  in  v^^hich  these  illustrious  adventurers  set  sail  was 
cahed  the  Goede  Vrouw,  or  good  woman,  in  compliment  to  the 
wife  of  the  President  of  the  West  India  Company,  who  was  al- 
lowed by  every  body  (except  her  husband)  to  be  a  sweet-tem- 
pered lady — when  not  in  liquor.  It  was  in  truth  a  most  gallant 
vessel,  of  the  most  approved  Dutich  construction,  and  made  by 
the  ablest  ship-carpenters  of  Amsterdam,  who,  it  is  well  known, 
always  model  their  ships  after  the  fair  forms  of  their  country- 
women. Accordingly,  it  had  one  hundred  feet  in  the  beam, 
one  hundred  feet  in  the  keel,  and  one  hundred  feet  from  the 
bottom  of  the  stem-post  to  the  talferel.  Like  the  beauteous 
model,  who  was  declared  to  be  the  greatest  belle  in  Amster- 
dam, it  was  full  in  the  bows,  with  a  pair  of  enormous  cat- 
heads, a  copper  bottom,  and,  withal,  a  most  prodigious  poop ! 

The  architect,  who  was  somewha-t  of  a  rehgious  man,  far 
from  decorating  the  ship  with  pagan  idols,  such  as  Jupiter, 
Neptune,  or  Hercules,  (wliich  heathenish  abominations,  I  have 
no  doubt,  occasion  the  misfortunes  and  shipwreck  of  many  a 
noble  vessel,)  he,  I  say,  on  the  contrary,  did  laudably  erect  for 
a  head,  a  goodly  image  of  St.  Nicholas,  equipped  with  a  low, 
broad-brimmed  hat,  a  huge  pair  of  Flemish  tnmk-hose,  and  a 
pipe  that  reached  to  the  end  of  the  bowsprit.  Thus  gallantly 
furnished,  the  staunch  ship  floated  sideways,  like  a  majestic 
goose,  out  of  the  harbour  of  tho  great  city  of  Amsterdam,  and 
all  the  beHs,  that  were  not  otherwise  engaged,  rang  a  triple 
bobmajor  on  the  joyful  occasion. 

My  great-great-grandfather  remarks,  that  the  voyage  was 


C4 


A  mSTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


uncommonly  prosperous,  for,  being  under  the  especial  care  of 
the  ever-revered  St.  Nicholas,  the  Goede  Vrouw  seemed  to  bo 
endowed  with  qualities  unknown  to  common  vessels.  Thus  she 
made  as  much  lee-way  as  head-way,  could  get  along  very 
nearly  as  fast  with  the  wind  a-head,  as  when  it  was  a-poop— 
and  was  particularly  great  in  a  calm ;  in  consequence  of  which 
singular  advantages,  she  made  out  to  accomplish  her  voyage  in 
a  very  few  months,  and  came  to  anchor  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Hudson,  a  little  to  the  east  of  Gibbet  Island. 

Here  lifting  up  their  eyes,  they  beheld,  on  what  is  at  present 
called  the  Jersey  shore,  a  small  Indian  village,  pleasantly  em- 
bowered in  a  grove  of  spreading  elms,  and  the  natives  all  col- 
lected on  the  beach,  gazing  in  stupid  admiration  at  the  Goede 
Vrouw.  A  boat  was  immediately  despatched  to  enter  into  a 
treaty  with  them,  and  approaching  the  shore,  hailed  them 
through  a  trumpet  in  most  friendly  terms ;  but  so  horribly  con- 
founded were  these  poor  savages  at  the  tremendous  and  uncouth 
sound  of  the  Low  Dutch  language,  that  they  one  and  all  took  to 
their  heels,  and  scampered  over  the  Bergen  hills;  nor  did  they 
stop  until  they  had  buried  themselves,  head  and  ears,  in  the 
marshes  on  the  other  side,  where  they  all  miserably  perished 
to  a  man— and  their  bones  being  collected  and  decently  covered 
by  the  Tammany  Society  of  that  day,  formed  that  singular 
mound  called  Rattlesnake  Hill,  which  rises  out  of  the  centre 
of  the  salt  marshes,  a  little  to  the  east  of  the  Newark  Cause- 
way. 

Animated  by  this  unlooked-for  victory,  our  vahant  heroes 
sprang  ashore  in  triumph,  took  possession  of  the  soil  as  con- 
querors in  the  name  of  their  High  Mightinesses  the  Lords  States 
General ;  and  marching  fearlessly  forward,  carried  the  village 
of  CoMMUNiPAW  by  storm,  notwithstanding  that  it  was  vigor- 
ously defended  by  some  half-a-score  of  old  squaws  and  pap- 
pooses.  On  looking  about  them,  they  were  so  transported  with 
the  excellencies  of  the  place,  that  they  had  very  little  doubt  the 
blessed  St.  Nicholas  had  guided  them  thither,  as  the  very  spot 
whereon  to  settle  their  colony.  The  softness  of  the  soil  was 
wonderfully  adapted  to  the  driving  of  piles ;  the  swamps  and 
marshes  around  them  afforded  ample  opportunities  for  the 
constructing  of  dikes  and  da.ms;  the  shallowness  of  the  shore 
was  peculiarly  favourable  to  the  building  of  docks — in  a  word, 
this  spot  abounded  with  all  the  requisites  for  the  foundation  of 
a  great  Dutcli  city.  On  making  a  faithful  report,  therefore,  to 
the  crew  of  the  Goede  Vrouw,  they  one  and  all  determmed  that 


I 


A  niSTORT  NEW-YORK. 


m 


this  was  the  destined  end  of  their  voyage.  Accordingly  they 
dosconded  from  the  Goede  Vrouw,  men,  women,  and  cliildren, 
m  goodly  groups,  as  did  the  animals  of  yore  from  the  ark,  and 
cormed  themselves  into  a  thriving  settlement,  which  they  called 
by  the  Indian  name  Communipaw. 

As  all  the  world  is  doubtless  perfectly  acquainted  with  Com- 
inunipaw,  it  may  seem  somewhat  superfluous  to  treat  of  it  in 
the  present  work ;  but  my  readers  will  please  to  recollect,  that 
notwithstanding  it  is  my  chief  desire  to  satisfy  the  present  age, 
yet  I  write  hkewise  for  posterity,  and  have  to  consult  the 
imderstanding  and  curiosity  of  some  half  a  score  of  centuries 
yet  to  come ;  by  wliich  time,  perhaj^s,  Avere  it  not  for  this  in- 
valuable history,  the  great  Communipaw,  like  Babylon,  Car- 
thage, Nineveh,  and  other  great  cities,  might  be  perfectly  ex- 
tinct— sunk  and  forgotten  in  its  ow^n  mud — its  inhabitants 
turned  into  oysters,*  and  even  its  situation  a  fertile  subject  of 
learned  controversy  and  ha,rd-headed  investigation  among  in- 
defatigable historians.  Let  me  then  piously  rescue  from  ob- 
livion the  humble  relics  of  a  place  which  was  the  egg  from 
whence  was  hatched  the  mighty  city  of  New -York ! 

Communipaw  is  at  present  but  a  small  village  pleasantly  sit- 
uated, among  rural  scenery,  on  that  beauteous  part  of  the  Jer- 
sey shore  which  was  known  in  ancient  legends  by  the  name  of 
Pavonia,t  and  commands  a  grand  prospect  of  the  superb  bay 
of  New-York.  It  is  within  but  half  an  hour's  sail  of  the  latter 
place,  proAaded  you  have  a  fa.ir  wind,  and  may  be  distinctly 
seen  from  the  city.  Nay,  it  is  a  well-known  fact,  which  I  can 
testify  from  my  own  experience,  that  on  a  clear  still  sununer 
evening,  you  may  hear,  from  the  Battery  of  New- York,  the 
obstreperous  peals  of  broad-mouthed  laughter  of  the  Dutch 
negroes  at  Communipaw,  who,  like  most  other  negroes,  are 
famous  for  their  risible  powers.  This  is  peculiarly  the  case  on 
Sunday  evenings,  when,  it  is  remarked  by  an  ingenious  and 
observant  philosopher,  who  has  made  great  discoveries  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  this  city,  that  they  always  laugh  loudest— 
which  he  attributes  to  the  circumstance  of  their  having  theii 
hoHday  clothes  on. 

These  negroes,  in  fact,  likie  the  monks  in  the  dark  ages, 
engross  all  the  knowledge  ol  the  place,  and  being  infinitely 


*  Men  by  inaction  de.srenerate  into  oysters. — Kaimes. 

t  Pavonia.  ia  the  ancient  maps,  is  given  to  a  tract  ot  country  extending  from 
about  Hoboken  to  Amboy. 


66 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  TORK. 


more  adventurous  and  more  knowing  than  their  masters,  carry 
on  all  the  foreign  tiade;  making  frequent  voyages  to  town  in 
canoes  loaded  with  oysters,  buttermilk,  and  cabbages.  They 
are  great  astrologers,  predicting  the  different  changes  of 
weather  almost  as  accurately  as  an  almanac — they  are  more- 
over exquisite  performers  on  three-stringed  fiddles :  in  whis- 
tling, they  almost  boast  the  far-famed  powers  of  Orpheus's  lyre, 
"or  not  a  horse  or  an  ox  in  the  place,  when  at  the  plough  or 
before  the  wagon,  will  budge  a  foot  until  he  hears  the  well- 
known  whistle  of  his  black  driver  and  companion. — And  from 
their  amazing  skill  at  casting  up  accounts  upon  their  fingers, 
they  are  regarded  with  as  much  veneration  as  were  the  disci- 
ples of  Pythagoras  of  yore,  when  initiated  into  the  sacred  qua- 
ternary of  numbers. 

As  to  the  honest  burghers  of  Communipaw,  like  wise  men 
and  sound  philosofjhers,  they  never  look  beyond  their  pipes, 
nor  trouble  their  heads  about  any  affairs  out  of  their  immediate 
neighbourhood;  so  that  they  live  in  profound  and  enviable 
ignorance  of  all  the  troubles,  anxieties,  and  revolutions  of  this 
distracted  planet.  I  am  even  told  that  many  among  them  do 
verily  believe  that  Holland,  of  vv^hich  they  have  heard  so  much 
from  tradition,  is  situated  somewhere  on  Long  Island — that 
SpiMng-devil  and  the  Narroics  are  the  two  ends  of  the  world 
—that  the  country  is  still  under  the  dominion  of  their  High 
Mightinesses,  and  that  the  city  of  New- York  still  goes  by  the 
name  of  Nieuw- Amsterdam.  They  meet  every  Saturday  after- 
noon at  the  only  tavern  in  the  place,  which  bears  as  a  sign,  a 
square-headed  likeness  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  where  they 
smoke  a  silent  pipe,  by  way  of  promoting  social  conviviahty, 
and  invariably  drink  a  mug  of  cider  to  the  success  of  Admiral 
Van  Tromp,  who  they  imagine  is  still  sweeping  the  British 
channel,  wdth  a  broom  at  his  mast-head. 

Communipaw,  in  short,  is  one  of  the  numerous  httle  villages 
in  the  vicinity  of  this  most  beautiful  of  cities,  which  are  so 
many  strong-holds  and  fastnesses,  whither  the  primitive  man- 
ners of  our  Dutch  forefathers  have  retreated,  and  where  they 
are  cherished  with  devout  and  scrupulous  strictness.  The 
dress  of  the  original  settlers  is  handed  down  inviolate,  from 
father  to  son — the  identical  broad-brimmed  hat,  broad-skirted 
coat,  and  broad-bottomed  breeches  continue  from  generation  to 
generation ;  and  several  gigantic  knee-buckles  of  massy  silver 
are  still  in  wear,  that  made  gallant  display  in  the  days  of  the 
patriarchs  of  Communipaw.    The  language  likewise  continues 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


67 


unadulterated  by  barbarous  innovations;  and  so  critically  cor- 
rect is  the  village  schoolmaster  in  his  dialect,  that  his  reading 
of  a  Low  Dutch  psalm  has  much  the  same  effect  on  the  nerves 
as  the  filing  of  a  handsaw. 


CHAPTER  m. 

IN  WHICH  IS  SET  FORTH  THE  TRUE  ART  OF  MAKING  A  BARGAIN 
—TOGETHER  WITH  THE  MIRACULOUS  ESCAPE  OF  A  GREAT  ME- 
TROPOLIS IN  A  FOG — AND  THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  CERTAIN  HEROES 
OF  COMMUNIPAW. 

Having,  in  the  trifling  digression  which  concluded  the  last 
chapter,  discharged  the  filial  duty  which  the  city  of  New- York 
owed  to  Communipaw,  as  being  the  mother  settlement;  and 
having  given  a  faithful  picture  of  it  as  it  stands  at  present,  I 
return  with  a  soothing  sentiment  of  self -approbation,  to  dwell 
upon  its  early  history.  The  crew  of  the  Goede  Vrouw  being 
soon  reinforced  by  fresh  importations  from  Holland,  the  settle- 
ment went  jollily  on,  increasing  in  magnitude  and  prosperity. 
The  neighbouring  Indians  in  a  short  time  became  accustomed 
to  the  uncouth  sound  of  the  Dutch  language,  and  an  inter- 
course gradually  took  place  between  them  and  the  new  comers. 
The  Indians  were  much  given  to  long  talks,  and  the  Dutch  to 
long  silence — in  this  particular,  therefore,  they  accommodated 
each  other  completely.  The  chiefs  would  make  long  speeches 
about  the  big  bull,  the  wabash,  and  the  great  spirit,  to  which 
the  others  would  hsten  very  attentively,  smoke  their  pipes-  and 
grunt  yah,  myn-her — whereat  the  poor  savages  were  wondrously 
delighted.  They  instructed  the  new  settlers  in  the  best  art  of 
curing  and  smoking  tobacco,  while  the  latter,  in  return,  made 
them  di'unk  with  true  Hollands— and  then  taught  them  the  art 
of  making  bargains. 

A  brisk  trade  for  furs  was  soon  opened:  the  Dutch  traders 
were  scrupulously  honest  in  their  dealings,  and  purchased  by 
weight,  establishing  it  as  an  invariable  table  of  avoirdupois, 
that  the  hand  of  a  Dutchman  weighed  one  pound,  and  his  foot 
two  pounds.  It  is  true,  the  simple  Indians  were  often  puzzled 
by  the  great  disproportion  between  bulk  and  weight,  for  let 
them  place  a  bundle  of  furs,  never  so  large,  in  one  scale,  and  a 


68 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


Dutcbman  put  his  hand  or  foot  in  the  other,  the  bundle  was 

sure  to  kick  the  beam — never  was  a  package  of  furs  known  to 
weigh  more  than  two  pounds  in  the  market  of  Communipaw ! 

This  is  a  singular  fact— but  I  have  it  direct  from  my  great 
great-grandfather,  who  had  risen  to  considerable  importance 
in  the  colony,  being  promoted  to  the  office  of  weigh-master,  on 
account  of  the  uncommon  heaviness  of  his  foot. 

The  Dutch  possessions  in  this  part  of  the  globe  began  now  to 
assume  a  very  thriving  appearance,  and  were  comprehended 
under  the  general  title  of  Nieuw  Nederlandts,  on  account,  as 
the  sage  Vander  Donck  observes,  of  their  great  resemblance  to 
the  Dutch  Netherlands— which  indeed  was  truly  remarkable, 
excepting  that  the  former  were  rugged  and  mountamous,  and 
the  latter  level  and  marshy.  About  this  time  the  tranquillity 
of  the  Dutch  colonistc  was  doomed  to  suffer  a  temporary  in- 
terruption. In  1G14,  Captain  Sir  Samuel  Argal,  sailing  under  a 
conmiission  from  Dale,  governor  of  Virginia,  visited  the  Dutch 
settlements  on  Hudson  Eiver,  and  demanded  their  submission 
to  the  Enghsh  crown  and  Virginian  dominion.  To  this  arro- 
gant demand,  as  they  were  in  no  condition  to  resist  it,  they 
submitted  for  the  time  like  discreet  and  reasonable  men. 

It  does,  not  appear  that  the  valiant  Argal  molested  the  settle- 
ment of  Communipaw ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  told  that  when 
his  vessel  first  hove  in  sight,  the  worthy  burghers  were  seized 
with  such  a  panic,  that  they  fell  to  smoking  their  pipes  with 
astonishing  vehemence ;  insomuch  that  they  quickly  raised  a 
cloud,  which,  combining  with  the  surrounding  woods  and 
marshes,  completely  enveloped  and  concealed  their  beloved 
village,  and  overhung  the  fair  regions  of  Pavonia ; — so  that  the 
terrible  Captain  Argal  passed  on,  totally  unsuspicious  that  a 
sturdy  httle  Dutch  settlement  lay  snugly  couched  in  the  mud, 
under  cover  of  all  this  pestilent  vapour.  In  commemoration 
of  tliis  fortunate  escape,  the  worthy  inhabitants  have  continued 
to  smoke,  almost  without  intermission,  unto  this  very  day; 
w^hich  is  said  to  be  the  cause  of  the  remarkable  fog  that  often 
hangs  over  Communipaw  of  a  clear  afternoon. 

Upon  the  departure  of  the  enemy,  our  magnanimous  ances- 
tors took  full  six  months  to  recover  their  wind,  having  beeji 
exceedingly  discomposed  by  the  consternation  and  hurry  of 
affairs.  They  then  called  a  council  of  safety  to  smoke  over 
the  state  of  the  province.  After  six  months  more  of  mature 
deliberation,  during  which  nearly  five  himdred  words  were 
spoken,  and  almost  as  much  tobacco  was  smoked  as  would 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YOBR. 


69 


have  served  a  certain  modern  general  through  a  whoLo  winter's 
campaign  of  hard  drinking,  it  was  determined  to  fit  out  an 
armament  of  canoes,  aiid  despatch  them  on  a  voyage  of  dis- 
covery; to  search  if,  peradventure,  some  moi'o  sure  and  for- 
midable position  might  not  be  found,  where  the  colony  would 
be  less  subject  to  vexatious  visitations. 

This  perilous  enterprise  was  intrusted  to  the  superintendence 
of  Mynheers  Oloiie  Van  Kortlandt,  Abraham  Hardenbroeck, 
Jacobus  Van  Zandt,  and  Winant  Ten  Broeck— four  indubitably 
great  men,  but  of  whose  history,  although  I  have  made  diligent 
inquiry,  I  can  learn  but  little,  previous  to  their  leaving  Hoi- 
land.  Nor  need  this  occasion  much  surprise ;  for  adventurers, 
like  prophets,  though  they  make  great  noise  abroad,  have  sel- 
dom much  celebrity  in  their  own  countries ;  but  this  much  is 
certain,  that  the  overflo wings  and  offscourings  of  a  country  are 
invariably  composed  of  the  richest  parts  of  the  soil.  And  here 
I  cannot  help  remarking  how  convenient  it  would  be  to  many 
of  our  great  men  and  great  families  of  doubtful  origin,  could 
fcliey  have  the  privilege  of  the  heroes  of  yore,  who,  whenever 
their  origin  was  involved  in  obscurity,  modestly  announced 
themselves  descended  from  a  god— and  who  never  visited  a 
foreign  country  but  what  they  told  some  cock-and-bull  stories 
about  their  being  kings  and  princes  at  home.  This  venal  tres- 
pass on  the  truth,  though  it  has  occasionally  been  played  off 
by  some  pseudo  marquis,  baronet,  and  other  illustrious  for- 
eigner, in  our  land  of  good-natured  credulity,  has  been  com- 
pletely discountenanced  in  this  sceptical  matter-of-fact  age— 
and  I  even  question  whether  any  tender  virgin,  who  was  acci- 
dentally and  unaccountably  enriched  with  a  banthng,  would 
save  her  character  at  parlour  firesides  and  evening  tea-parties 
by  ascribing  the  phenomenon  to  a  swan,  a  shower  of  gold,  or  a 
river-god. 

Thus  being  denied  the  benefit  of  mythology  and  classic  fable, 
I  should  have  been  completely  at  a  loss  as  to  the  early  biography 
of  my  lieroes,  had  not  a  gleam  of  light  been  thrown  upon  their 
origin  from  their  names. 

By  this  simple  means,  have  I  been  enabled  to  gather  some 
particulars  concerning  the  adventurers  in  question.  Van  Kort- 
landt, for  instance,  v/as  one  of  those  peripatetic  philosophers 
who  tax  Providence  for  a  livelihood,  and,  like  Diogenes,  enjo;/ 
a  free  and  unencumbered  estate  m  simshine.  He  was  usually 
arrayed  in  garments  suitable  to  his  fortune,  being  curiously 
fringed  and  f angled  by  the  hand  of  time ;  and  was  helmeted 


70 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW-TOllK. 


with  an  old  fragment  of  a  hat,  which  had  acquired  the  shape 
of  a  sugar-loaf ;  and  so  far  did  he  carry  his  contempt  for  the 
adventitious  distinction  of  dress,  that  it  is  said  thi^  remnant  oi 
a  shirt,  which  covered  his  back,  and  dandled  like  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  out  of  a  hole  in  his  breeches,  was  never  washed 
except  by  the  bountiful  showers  of  heaven.  In  this  garb  was 
he  usually  to  be  seen,  sunning  himself  at  noon-day,  with  a  herd 
of  philosophers  of  the  same  sect,  on  the  side  of  the  great  canal 
of  Amsterdam.  Like  your  nobdity  of  Europe,  he  took  his 
name  of  Kortlandt  (or  lackland)  from  his  landed  estate,  which 
lay  somewhere  in  terra  incognita. 

Of  the  next  of  our  worthies,  might  I  have  had  the  benefit  of 
mythological  assistance,  the  want  of  which  I  have  just  lament- 
ed, I  should  have  made  honourable  mention,  as  boasting  equally 
illustrious  pedigree  with  the  proudest  hero  of  antiquity.  His 
name  of  Van  Zandt,  which,  being  freely  translated,  signifies, 
from  the  dirt,  meaning,  beyond  a  doubt,  that,  hke  Triptole- 
mus,  Themis,  the  Cyclops  and  the  Titans,  he  sprang  from  dame 
Terra,  or  the  earth !  This  supposition  is  strongly  corroborated 
by  his  size,  for  it  is  well  known  that  all  the  progeny  of  mother 
earth  were  of  a  gigantic  stature ;  and  Van  Zandt,  we  are  told, 
was  a  tall,  raw-boned  man,  above  six  feet  high — with  an  aston- 
ishing hard  head.  Nor  is  this  origin  of  the  illustrious  Van 
Zandt  a  whit  more  improbable  or  repugnant  to  belief  than 
what  is  related  and  universally  admitted  of  certain  of  our 
greatest,  or  rather  richest  men ;  who,  we  are  told  with  the  ut- 
most gravity,  did  originally  spring  from  a  dunghill ! 

Of  the  third  hero,  but  a  faint  description  has  reached  to  this 
time,  which  mentions  that  he  was  a  sturdy,  obstinate,  burly, 
bustling  little  man :  and  from  being  usually  equipped  with  an 
old  pair  of  buckskins,  was  familiarly  dubbed  Harden  Broeck, 
or  Tough  Breeches. 

Ten  Broeck  completed  this  junto  of  adventurers.  It  is  a 
singular,  but  ludicrous  fact,  which,  were  I  not  scmpulous  in 
recording  the  whole  truth,  I  should  almost  be  tempted  to  pass 
over  in  silence,  as  incompatible  with  the  gravity  and  dignity 
of  history,  that  tliis  worthy  gentleman  should  likewise  have 
been  nicknamed  from  the  most  whimsical  part  of  his  dress.  In 
fact,  the  small-clothes  seems  to  have  been  a  very  Important 
garment  m  the  eyes  of  our  venerated  ancestors,  owing  in  all 
probability  to  its  really  being  the  largest  article  of  raiment 
among  them.  The  name  of  Ten  Broeck,  or  Tin  Broeck,  is 
indifferently  translated  into  Ten  Breeches  and  Tin  Breeches- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


71 


the  High  Dutch  commentators  incMne  to  the  former  opim'on; 
and  ascribe  it  to  his  being  the  first  who  introduced  into  the 
settlement  the  ancient  Dutch  fashion  of  wearing  ten  pair  of 
breeches.  But  the  most  elegant  and  ingenious  writers  on  the 
subject  declare  in  favour  of  Tin,  or  rather  Thin  Breeches; 
from  whence  they  infer,  that  he  was  a  poor,  but  merry  rogue, 
'  whose  galligaskins  were  none  of  the  soundest,  and  who  was 
the  identical  author  of  that  truly  philosophical  stanza: 

"  Then  why  should  we  quarrel  for  riches, 
Or  any  such  glittering  toys  ? 
A  light  heart  and  thin  pair  of  breeches. 
Will  go  through  the  world,  my  brave  boys!" 

Such  was  the  gallant  junto  chosen  to  conduct  this  voyage 
into  unknown  realms ;  and  the  whole  was  put  under  the  super- 
intending care  and  direction  of  Oloif e  Van  Kortlandt,  who  was 
held  in  great  reverence  among  the  sages  of  Communipaw,  for 
the  variety  and  darkness  of  his  knowledge.  Having,  as  I 
before  observed,  passed  a  great  part  of  his  life  in  the  open  air, 
among  the  peripatetic  philosophers  of  Amsterdam,  he  had 
become  amazingly  well  acquainted  with  the  aspect  of  the 
heavens,  and  could  as  accurately  determine  when  a  storm  was 
brewing,  or  a  squall  rising,  as  a  dutiful  husband  can  foresee, 
from  the  brow  of  his  spouse,  when  a  tempest  is  gathering 
about  his  ears.  He  was  moreover  a  great  seer  of  ghosts  and 
goblins,  and  a  firm  believer  in  omens;  but  what  especially 
recommended  him  to  public  confidence  was  his  marvellous 
talent  at  dreaming,  for  there  never  was  anything  of  conse- 
quence happened  at  Communipaw  but  what  he  declared  he 
had  previously  dreamt  it ;  being  one  of  those  infallible  prophets 
who  always  predict  events  after  they  have  come  to  pass. 

This  supernatural  gift  was  as  highly  valued  among  the 
burghers  of  Pavonia,  as  it  was  among  the  enlightened  nations 
of  antiquity.  The  wise  Ulysses  was  more  indebted  to  his 
sleeping  than  his  waking  moments  for  all  his  subtle  achieve- 
ments, and  seldom  undertook  any  great  exploit  without  first 
soundly  sleeping  upon  it ;  and  the  same  may  truly  be  said  of 
the  good  Van  Kortlandt,  who  was  thence  aptly  denominated, 
Ololf e  the  Dreamer. 

This  cautious  commander,  having  chosen  the  crews  that 
should  accompany  him  in  the  proposed  expedition,  exhorted 
them  to  repair  to  their  homes,  take  a  good  night's  rest,  settle 
aJ]  fa,mily  affairs,  and  make  their  wills,  before  departing  on 


72 


A  in^TOllY  OF  NEW- YORE. 


this  voyage  into  unknomi  realms.  And  indeed  this  last  was 
a  precaution  always  taken  by  our  foreiathers,  even  in  after 
times,  Avhen  they  became  more  adventurous,  and  voyaged  to 
Haverstraw,  or  Kaatskill,  or  Groodt  Esopus,  or  any  other  far 
coimtry  that  lay  beyond  the  great  waters  of  the  Tappaan  Zee. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  THE  HEROES  OF  COMMUNIPAW  VOYAGED    TO  HELL-GATE, 
AND  HOW  THEY  WERE  RECEIVED  THERE. 

And  now  the  vo^j  blush  of  morn  began  to  mantle  in  the 
east,  and  soon  the  rising  sun,  emerging  from  amidst  golden 
and  purple  clouds,  shed  his  bhthesome  rays  on  the  tin  weather- 
cocks  of  Communipaw.  It  was  that  delicious  season  of  the 
year,  when  nature,  breaking  from  the  chilling  thraldom  of  old 
'v\Tnter,  hke  a  blooming  daD:isel  from  the  tyranny  of  a  sordid 
old  father,  threw  herself,  blushing  with  ten  thousand  channs, 
into  the  arms  of  youthful  spring.  Every  tufted  copse  and 
blooming  gi'ove  resounded  with  the  notes  of  hymeneal  love. 
The  very  insects,  as  they  sipped  the  dew  that  gemmed  the 
tender  grass  of  the  meadows,  joined  in  the  joyous  epithala- 
mimn— the  virgin  bud  timidly  put  forth  its  blushes,  "the 
voice  of  the  turtle  was  heard  in  the  land,"  and  the  heart  of 
man  dissolved  away  in  tenderness.  Oh!  sweet  Theocritus! 
had  I  tliine  oaten  reed,  wherewith  thou  erst  did  charm  the 
gay  Sicilian  plains. — Or,  oh  I  gentle  Bion!  thy  pastoral  pipe, 
wherein  the  happy  swains  of  the  Lesbian  isle  so  much  de- 
Hghted,  then  might  I  attempt  to  sing,  in  soft  BucoUc  or  negli- 
gent Idyllium,  the  rural  beauties  of  the  scene — ^but  having 
nothing,  save  this  jaded  gooso-quill,  wherewith  to  wing  my 
flight,  I  must  fain  resign  all  poetic  dispor tings  of  the  fancy, 
and  pursue  my  narrative  in  humble  prose ;  comforting  myself 
with  the  hope,  that  though  it  may  not  steal  so  sweetly  upon 
the  imagination  of  my  reader,  yet  may  it  commend  itself,  with 
virgm  modesty,  to  his  better  judgment,  clothed  in  the  chaste 
and  simple  gar]^  of  truth. 

No  sooner  did  the  first  rays  of  cheerful  Phoebus  dart  mto  th  e 
windows  of  Communipaw,  than  the  little  settlement  was  all  in 
motion.    Forth  issued  from  his  castle  the  sage  Van  Kortlandt 


A  UISTOUY  01'  NEW- TOME. 


73 


and  seizing  a  conch-shell,  biev/  a  far-resounding  blast,  that 
soon  summoned  all  his  lusty  followers.  Then  did  they  trudge 
resolutely  down'  to  the  water-side,  escorted  by  a  multitude  of 
relatives  and  friends,  who  all  went  down,  as  the  common 
phrase  expresses  it,  "to  see  them  off."  And  this  shows  the 
antiquity  of  those  long  family  processions,  often  seen  in  our 
city,  composed  of  all  ages,  sizes,  and  sexes,  laden  ^vith  bundles, 
and  bandboxes,  escorting  somo  bevy  of  country  cousuis  about 
to  depart  for  home  in  a  market-boat. 

The  good  Oloffe  bestowed  his  forces  in  a  squadron  of  three 
canoes,  and  hoisted  his  flag  on  board  a  Httle  round  Dutch  boat, 
shaped  not  unhke  a  tub,  which  had  formerly  been  the  jolly- 
boat  of  the  Goede  Vrouw.  And  now  all  being  embarked,  they 
bade  farewell  to  the  gazing  thi'ong  upon  the  beach,  who  con- 
tinued shouting  after  them,  even  when  out  of  hearing,  wishing 
them  a  happy  voyage,  advising  them  to  take  good  care  of 
themselves,  and  not  to  get  drowned— with  an  abundance  other 
of  those  sage  and  invaluable  cautions,  generally  given  by 
landsmen  to  such  as  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  adven- 
ture upon  the  deep  waters.  In  the  meanwliile,  the  voyagers 
cheerily  urged  their  course  across  the  crystal  bosom  of  the 
bay,  and  soon  left  behind  them  the  green  shores  of  ancient 
Pavonia. 

And  first  they  touched  at  two  small  islands  which  he  nearly 
opposite  Communipaw,  and  wliich  are  said  to  have  been 
brought  into  existence  about  the  time  of  the  gi^eat  irmption  of 
the  Hudson,  when  it  broke  through  the  Highlands,  and  made 
its  way  to  the  ocean.*  For  in  this  tremendous  uproar  of  the 
Tv^aters,  we  are  told  that  many  huge  fragments  of  rock  and 
land  were  rent  from  the  mountains  and  swept  down  by  this 
runawa;y  river  for  sixty  or  seventy  miles ;  where  some  of  them 
ran  aground  on  the  shoals  just  opposite  Communipaw,  and 
formed  the  identical  islands  in  question,  while  others  drifted 
out  to  sea  and  were  never  heard  of  more.    A  sufficient  proof 


*  It  is  a  matter  long  since  established  by  certain  of  our  philosophers,  that  is 
to  say,  liaving  been  often  a.ilvaiiced,  and  never  contradicted,  it  has  grown  to  be 
pretty  nig>.  equal  to  a  settled  fact,  that  the  Hudson  was  originally  a  lake,  dammed 
up  by  the  mountains  of  the  Highlands.  In  process  of  time,  however,  becoming 
very  mighty  and  obstreperous,  and  the  mountains  waxing  pursy,  dropsical,  and 
weak  in  the  back,  by  reason  of  their  extreme  old  age,  it  suddenly  rose  upon  them, 
and  after  a  violent  struggle  effected  its  escape.  Ttiis  i'S  said  to  have  come  to  pass 
in  very  remote  time;  probably  before  that,  rivers  had  lost  the  art  of  running  un 
hill.  The  foregoing  is  a  theory  in  which  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  skilled,  notwitli- 
standing  that  I  do  fully  give  it  my  belief. 


74 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORE. 


of  the  fact  is,  that  the  rock  which  forms  the  bases  of  these 
islands  is  exactly  similar  to  that  of  the  Highlands,  and,  more- 
over, one  01  our  philosophers,  who  has  diligently  compared  the 
agreement  of  their  respective  sm^faces,  has  even  gone  so  far  as 
to  assure  me,  in  contidence,  that  Gibbet  Island  was  originally 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  wart  on  Anthony's  Nose.* 

Leaving  these  Avonderful  httle  isles,  they  next  coasted  by 
Governor's  Island,  since  terrible  from  its  frowning  fortress  and 
grinning  batteries.  They  would  by  no  means,  however,  land 
upon  this  island,  since  they  doubted  much  it  might  be  the 
abode  of  demons  and  spiiits,  which  in  those  days  did  greatly 
abound  throughout  this  savage  and  pagan  country. 

Just  at  this  time  a  shoal  of  jolly  porpoises  came  rolling  and 
tumbling  by,  turning  up  their  sleek  sides  to  the  sun,  and  spout- 
ing up  the  briny  element  in  sparkling  showers.  No  sooner  did 
the  sage  Oioffe  mark  this,  than  he  was  greatly  rejoiced. 
"  Tliis,"  exclaimed  he,  "  if  I  mistake  not,  augurs  well— the  por- 
poise is  a  fat,  weU-conditioned  fish — a  burgomaster  among 
fishes— his  looks  betoken  ease,  plenty,  and  prosperity — I 
gi-eatly  admire  this  round,  fat  fish,  and  doubt  not  but  this 
is  a  happy  omen  of  the  success  of  our  undertaking. "  So  say- 
ing, he  directed  his  squadron  to  steer  in  the  track  of  these 
alderman  fishes. 

Turnmg,  therefore,  directly  to  the  left,  they  swept  up  the 
strait  vulgarly  called  the  East  River.  And  here  the  rapid 
tide  which  courses  through  this  strait,  seizing  on  the  gallant 
tub  in  which  Commodore  Van  Kortlandt  had  embarked,  hur- 
ried it  forward  Avith  a  velocity  unparalleled  in  a  Dutch  boat, 
navigated  by  Dutchmen ;  insomuch  that  the  good  commodore, 
who  had  all  his  life  long  been  rccustomed  only  to  the  drowsy 
navigation  of  canals,  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  they 
were  in  the  hands  of  some  supernatural  power,  and  that  the 
jolly  porpoises  were  towing  them  to  some  fair  haven  that  was 
to  fulfil  all  their  wishes  and  expectations. 

Thus  borne  away  by  the  resistless  current,  they  doubled  that 
boisterous  point  of  land  since  called  Corlear's  Hook,t  and  leav- 
ing to  the  right  the  rich  winding  cove  of  the  Wallabout,  they 
drifted  into  a  magnificent  expanse  of  water,  surrounded  by 
pleasant  shores,  whose  verdure  was  exceedingly  refresliing  to 
the  eye.    While  the  voyagers  were  looking  around  them,  on 


*  A  promontory  in  the  Highlands. 

t  Properly  spelt  hoeck,  (».  e.,  a  point  of  land.) 


A  IIISTOIIT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


75 


what  they  conceived  to  be  a  serene  and  sunny  lake,  they 
beheld  at  a  distance  a  crew  of  painted  savages,  busily  em- 
ployed in  fishing,  who  seemed  more  like  the  genii  of  this 
romojitic  region — their  slender  canoe  lightly  balanced  like  a 
feather  on  the  undulating  surface  of  the  bay. 

At  sight  of  these,  the  hearts  of  the  heroes  of  Communipaw 
were  not  a  little  troubled.  But  as  good  fortune  w^ould  have  it, 
at  the  bow  of  the  commodore's  boat  was  stationed  a  very 
valiant  man,  named  Hendrick  Kip,  (w^hich  being  interpreted, 
means  chicken,  a  name  given  him  in  token  of  his  courage.)  No 
sooner  did  he  behold  these  varlet  heathens  than  he  trembled 
with  excessive  valour,  and  although  a  good  half  mile  distant, 
he  seized  a  musquetoon  that  lay  at  hand,  and  turning  away 
his  head,  fired  it  most  intrepidly  in  the  face  of  the  blessed  sun. 
The  blundering  weapon  recoiled  and  gave  the  valiant  Kip  an 
ignominious  kick,  tha,t  laid  him  prostrate  with  uplifted  heels  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat.  But  such  w^as  the  effect  of  this  tre- 
mendous fire,  that  the  w^ild  men  of  the  Avoods,  struck  with  con- 
sternation, seized  hastily  upon  their  paddles,  and  fehot  away 
into  one  of  the  deep  inlets  of  the  Long  Island  shore. 

This  signal  victory  gave  new  spirits  to  the  hardy  voyagers, 
and  in  honour  of  the  achievement  they  gave  the  name  of  the 
valiant  Kip  to  the  surrounding  bay,  and  it  has  continued  to  be 
called  Kip's  Bay  from  that  time  to  the  present.  The  heart  of 
the  good  Van  Kortlandt— who,  having  no  land  of  his  own,  was 
a  great  admirer  of  other  people's — expanded  at  the  sumptuous 
prospect  of  rich,  unsettled  country  around  Mm,  and  falhng 
into  a  delicious  reverie,  he  straightway  began  to  riot  in  the 
possession  of  vast  meadows  of  salt  marsh  and  interminable 
patches  of  cabbages.  From  this  delectable  vision  he  w^as  all  at 
once  awakened  by  the  sudden  turning  of  the  tide,  which  would 
soon  have  hurried  him  from  this  land  of  promise,  had  not  the 
discreet  navigator  given  signal  to  steer  for  shore;  w^here  they 
accordingly  landed  hard  by  the  rocky  heights  of  Bellevue— 
that  happy  retreat,  where  our  jolly  aldermen  eat  for  the  good 
of  the  city,  and  fatten  the  turtle  that  are  sacrificed  on  civic 
solemnities. 

Here,  seated  on  the  greensward,  by  the  side  of  a  small  stream 
that  ran  sparkling  among  the  grass,  they  refreshed  themselves 
after  the  toils  of  the  seas,  by  feasting  lustily  on  the  ample 
stores  which  they  had  pi-ovided  for  this  perilous  voyage. 
Thus  having  well  fortified  their  deliberative  powers,  they  fell 
into  an  earnest  consultation,  what  was  farther  to  be  done. 


70 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


This  was  the  first  council  dinner  ever  eaten  at  Bellevue  by 
Christian  burghers,  and  here,  as  tradition  relates,  did  originate 
the  great  family  I'eud  between  the  Ilardenbroecks  and  the  Ten- 
broecks,  wliich  afterwards  had  a  singular  influence  on  the 
building  of  the  city.  The  sturdy  Hardenbroeck,  whose  eyes 
had  been  wondrously  delighted  with  the  salt  marshes  that 
spread  their  reeking  bosoms  along  the  coast,  at  the  bottom  of 
Kip's  Baj^,  counselled  by  all  means  to  return  thither,  and  found 
the  intended  city.  This  was  strenuously  opposed  by  the  un- 
bending Ten  Broeck,  and  many  testy  arguments  passed  be- 
tween them.  The  particulars  of  this  controversy  have  not 
reached  us,  which  is  ever  to  be  lamented ;  this  much  is  certain, 
that  the  sage  Oloffe  put  an  end  to  the  dispute,  by  detennining 
to  explore  still  farther  in  the  route  ^vhich  the  mysterious  por- 
poises had  so  clearly  pointed  out — whereupon  the  sturdy  Tough 
Breeches  abandoned  the  expedition,  took  possession  of  a  neigh- 
bouring hill,  and  in  a  fit  of  great  wrath  peopled  all  that  tract  of 
country,  which  has  continued  to  be  inhabited  by  the  Harden- 
broecks  unto  this  very  day. 

By  this  time  the  jolly  Phoebus,  like  some  wanton  urchin 
sporting  on  the  side  of  a  green  hill,  began  to  roll  down  the 
declivity  of  the  heavens ;  and  now,  the  tide  having  once  more 
turned  in  their  favour,  the  resolute  Pavonians  again  committed 
themselves  to  its  discretion,  and  coasting  along  the  western 
shores,  were  borne  towards  the  straits  oi  Blackwell's  Island. 

And  here  the  capricious  wanderings  of  the  current  occasioned 
not  a  little  marvel  and  perplexity  to  these  illustrious  mariners. 
Now  would  they  be  caught  by  the  wanton  eddies,  and,  sweep- 
ing round  a  jutting  point,  would  wind  deep  into  some  romantic 
little  cove,  that  indented  the  fair  island  of  Manna-hata;  now 
were  they  hurried  narrowly  by  the  very  basis  of  impending 
rocks,  mantled  with  the  flaunting  grape-vine,  and  crowned 
with  groves  that  threw  a  broad  shade  on  the  waves  beneath ; 
and  anon  they  were  borne  away  into  the  mid-channel,  and 
wafted  along  with  a  rapidity  that  very  much  discomposed  the 
sage  Van  Kortlandt,  who,  as  he  saw  the  land  swiftly  receding 
on  either  side,  began  exceedingly  to  doubt  that  terra  fii-ma 
was  giving  them  the  slip. 

Wherever  the  voyagers  turned  their  eyes,  a  new  creation 
seemed  to  bloom  around.  No  signs  of  human  thrift  appeared 
to  check  the  delicious  wildness  of  nature,  who  here  revelled  in 
all  her  luxuriant  variety.  Those  hills,  now  bristled,  like  the 
fretful  porcupine,  with  rows  of  poplars,  (vain  upstart  plants! 


A  niSTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


77 


minions  of  wealth  and  fashion !)  were  then  adorned  with  the 
vigorous  natives  of  the  soil;  the  lordly  oak,  the  generous 
chestnut,  the  graceful  elm— while  here  and  there  the  tuhp-tree 
reared  its  majestic  head,  the  giant  of  the  forest.  Where  now 
are  seen  the  gay  retreats  of  luxury— villas  half  buried  in  twi- 
light bowers,  whence  the  amorous  flute  oft  breathes  the  sighings 
of  some  city  swain— there  the  fish-hawk  builb  his  solitary  nest, 
on  some  dry  tree  that  overlooked  his  watery  domain.  The 
Sjimid  deer  fed  undisturbed  along  those  shores  now  hallowed  by 
the  lovers'  moonlight  walk,  and  printed  by  the  slender  foot  of 
beauty;  and  a  savage  solitude  extended  over  those  happy 
regions  where  now  are  reared  the  stately  towers  of  the  Jonese  ^, 
the  Schermerhornes,  and  the  Ehinelanders. 

Thus  gliding  in  silent  wonder  through  these  new  and  unknowTi 
scenes,  the  gallant  squadron  of  Pavonia  SYvept  by  the  foot  of  a 
promontory  that  strutted  forth  boldly  into  the  waves,  and 
seemed  to  fro^vn  upon  them  as  they  brawled  against  its  base. 
This  is  the  bhiif  weU  known  to  modern  mariners  by  the  name 
of  Grade's  point,  from  the  fair  castle  which,  like  an  elephant, 
it  carries  upon  its  back.  And  here  broke  upon  their  view  a 
wild  and  varied  prospect,  where  land  and  water  were  bea,ute- 
ously  intermingled,  as  though  they  had  combined  to  heighten 
and  set  off  each  other's  cha^rms.  To  their  right  lay  the  sedgy 
point  of  Blackwell's  Island,  drest  in  the  fresh  garniture  of  living 
green — beyond  it  stretched  the  pleasant  coast  of  Sundswick, 
and  the  small  harbour  well  known  by  the  name  of  Hallet's 
Cove— a  place  infamous  in  latter  days,  by  reason  of  its  being 
the  haunt  of  pirates  who  infest  these  seas,  robbing  orchards 
and  watermelon  patches,  and  insulting  gentlemen  navigators 
when  voyaging  in  their  pleasure-boats.  To  the  left  a  deep  bay, 
or  rather  creek,  gracefully  receded  between  shores  fringed  with 
forests,  and  forming  a  kind  of  vista,  through  which  were  be- 
held the  sylvan  regions  of  Haerlem,  Morrisania,  and  East 
Chester.  Here  the  eye  reposed  with  delight  on  a  richly- wooded 
country,  diversified  by  tufted  knolls,  shadowy  intervals,  and 
waving  lines  of  upland  swelling  above  each  other;  vfhile  over 
the  whole  the  purple  mists  of  spring  dllfused  a  hue  of  soft 
voluptuousness. 

Just  before  them  the  grand  course  of  the  stream,  making  a 
sudden  bend,  wound  among  em]:)owered  promontories  and  shores 
of  emerald  verdure,  that  seemed  to  melt  into  the  wave.  A 
character  of  gentleness  and  mild  fertility  prevailed  around. 
The  sun  had  just  descended,  and  the  thin  haze  of  twilight,  like 


78 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


n  transparent  veil  drawn  over  the  bosom  of  virgin  "beauty^ 
heightened  the  charms  which  it  half  concealed. 

Ah !  witching  scenes  of  foul  delusion !  Ah !  hapless  voyagers, 
gazing  with  simple  wonder  on  these  Circean  shores!  Such, 
alas !  are  they,  poor  easy  souls,  who  listen  to  the  seductions  of 
a  wicked  world — treacherous  are  its  smiles  I  fatal  its  caresses  I 
He  who  yields  to  its  enticements  launches  upon  a  whelming 
tide,  and  trusts  his  feeble  bark  among  the  dimpling  eddies  of  a 
whirlpool !  And  thus  it  fared  with  the  worthies  of  Pavonia, 
who,  little  mistrusting  the  guileful  scene  before  them,  drifted 
quietly  on,  until  they  were  aroused  by  an  uncommon  tossing 
and  agitation  of  their  vessels.  For  now  the  late  dimpling  cur- 
rent began  to  brawl  around  them,  and  the  waves  to  boil  and 
foam  with  horrific  fury.  Awakened  as  if  from  a  dream,  the 
astonished  Oloffe  bawled  aloud  to  put  about,  but  his  words 
were  lost  amid  the  roaring  of  the  waters.  And  now  ensued  a 
scene  of  direful  consternation— at  one  time  they  were  borne 
with  dreadful  velocity  among  tumultuous  breakers ;  at  another, 
hurried  down  boisterous  rapids.  Now  they  were  nearly  dashed 
upon  the  Hen  and  Chickens ;  (infamous  rocks !— more  voracious 
than  Scylla  and  her  whelps;)  and  anon  they  seemed  sinking 
into  yawning  gulfs,  that  threatened  to  entomb  them  beneath 
the  waves.  All  the  elements  combined  to  produce  a  hideous 
confusion.  The  waters  raged — the  winds  howled— and  as  they 
were  hurried  along,  several  of  the  astonished  mariners  beheld 
the  rocks  and  trees  of  the  neighboming  shores  driving  through 
the  air ! 

At  length  the  mighty  tub  of  Commodore  Van  Kortlandt  was 
drawn  into  the  vortex  of  that  tremendous  whirlpool  called 
the  Pot,  where  it  was  w^hirled  about  in  giddy  mazes,  until  the 
senses  of  the  good  commander  and  his  crew  were  overpowered 
by  the  horror  of  the  scene  and  the  strangeness  of  the  revolu- 
tion. 

How  the  gallant  squadron  of  Pavonia  was  snatched  from  the 
laws  of  this  modem  Charybdis,  has  never  been  truly  made 
known,  for  so  many  Burvived  to  tell  the  tale,  and,  what  is  still 
more  wonderful,  told  it  m  so  many  different  ways,  that  there 
has  ever  prevailed  a  great  variety  of  opinions  on  the  subject. 

As  to  the  commodore  and  his  crew,  when  they  came  to  their 
senses  they  found  themselves  stranded  on  the  Long  Island 
shore.  The  worthy  commodore,  indeed,  used  to  relate  many 
and  wonderful  stories  of  his  adventures  in  this  time  of  peril ; 
how  that  he  saw  spectres  flying  in  the  air,  and  heard  the  yell- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK 


70 


ing  of  hobgoblins,  and  put  his  hand  into  the  Pot  when  they 
were  whirled  around  and  found  the  water  scalding  hot,  and 
beheld  several  uncouth-looking  beings  seated  on  rocks  and 
Bkimniing  it  with  huge  ladles— but  particularly  he  declared, 
with  great  exultation,  that  he  saw  the  losel  porpoises,  which 
had  betrayed  them  into  this  peril,  some  broiling  on  the  Gridiron 
and  others  hissing  in  the  Frying-pan ! 

These,  hov/ever,  were  considered  by  many  as  mere  phantasies 
of  the  commodore's  imagination,  while  he  lay  in  a  trance; 
especially  as  he  was  known  to  be  given  to  dreaming ;  and  the 
truth  of  them  has  never  been  clearly  ascertained.  It  is  cei-tain, 
however,  that  to  the  accounts  of  Oloffe  and  his  followers  may 
be  traced  the  various  traditions  handed  down  of  this  marvellous 
strait— as  how  the  devil  has  been  seen  there,  sitting  astride  of 
the  Hog's  Back  and  playing  on  the  fiddle— how  he  broils  fish 
there  before  a  storm;  and  many  other  stories,  in  which  we 
must  be  cautious  of  putting  too  much  faith.  In  consequence  of 
all  these  terrific  circumstances,  the  Pavonian  coraimander  gave 
this  pass  the  name  of  Helle-gat,  or  as  it  has  been  interpreted, 
Hell- Gate  ;  *  which  it  continues  to  bear  at  the  present  day. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW  THE  HEROES  OF  COMMUNIPAW  RETURNED  SOMEWHAT  WISER 
THAN  THEY  WENT— AND  HOW  THE  SAGE  OLOFFE  DREAMED  A 
DREAM— AND  THE  DREAM  THAT  HE  DREAMED. 

The  darkness  of  night  had  closed  upon  this  disastrous  day, 
and  a  doleful  night  was  it  to  the  shipwrecked  Pavonians, 
whose  ears  were  incessantly  assailed  with  the  raging  of  the 


*This  is  a  narrow  strait  in  the  Sound,  at  the  distance  of  six  miles  above  New- 
York.  It  is  dangerous  to  shipping,  unless  under  the  care  of  skilful  pilots,  by  reason 
of  numerous  rocks,  shelves,  and  whirlpools.  These  have  received  sundry  appella- 
tions, such  as  the  Gridiron,  Frying-pan,  Hog's  Back,  Pot,  &c.,  and  are  very  violent 
and  turbulent  at  certain  times  of  the  tide.  Certain  wise  men,  who  instruct  these 
modern  days,  have  softened  the  above  characteristic  name  into  Hurl-gate,  which 
means  nothing.  I  leave  them  to  give  their  own  etymology.  The  name  as  given  by 
our  author  is  supported  by  the  map  in  Vander  Donck's  history,  published  in  1656-— 
\>Y  Ogilvie's  history  of  America,  1671— as  also  by  a  journal  still  extant,  woitten  in 
the  16th  centuiy,  and  to  be  found  in  Hazard's  State  Papers.  And  an  old  MS., 
written  in  French,  speaking  of  various  alterations  in  names  about  this  city,  ob 
serves,  "  De  Helle-gat  trou  d'Enfer,  ils  ont  fait  Hell-Cate,  Porte  d'Enfer." 


80 


A  niSTQRY  OF  NEW- YORK 


elements,  and  tlie  howling  of  the  hobgoblins  that  infested  this 
l)orridious  strait.  But  when  the  morning  dawned,  the  horrors 
of  the  preceding  evening  liad  passed  away,-  rapids^  breakers, 
and  wliirlpools  had  disappeared ;  the  stream  again  ran  smooth 
and  dimi3ling,  and  having  changed  its  tide,  rolled  gently  back, 
towards  the  quarter  where  lay  their  much-regretted  home. 

The  woe-bcgone  heroes  of  Communipaw  eyed  each  other  with 
rueful  countenances ;  their  squadron  had  been  totally  dispersed 
by  the  late  disaster.  Some  were  cast  upon  the  western  shore, 
where,  headed  by  one  Ruleif  Hopper,  they  took  possession  of 
all  the  country  lying  about  the  six -mile  stone ;  which  is  held 
by  the  Hoppers  at  this  present  ^^^.'iting. 

The  Waldrons  were  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  a  distant 
coast,  where,  having  with  them  a  jug  of  genuine  Hollands, 
they  were  enabled  to  conciliate  the  savages,  setting  up  a  kind 
of  tavern :  from  whence,  it  is  said,  did  spring  the  fair  town  of 
Haerlem,  in  v.diich  their  descendants  have  ever  since  con- 
tinued to  be  reputable  pubhcans.  As  to  the  Suydams,  they 
were  thrown  upon  the  Long  Island  coast,  and  may  still  be 
found  in  those  parts.  But  the  most  singular  luck  attended  the 
great  Ten  Broeclv,  who,  falling  overboard,  was  miraculously 
preserved  from  sinking  by  the  multitude  of  his  nether  gar- 
ments. Thus  buoyed  up,  he  floated  on  the  waves  like  a  mer- 
man, or  like  the  cork  float  of  an  angler,  until  he  landed  safely 
on  a  rocli,  where  he  was  found  the  next  morning,  busily  dry- 
ing his  many  breeches  in  the  sunshhie. 

I  forbear  to  treat  of  the  long  consultation  of  our  adventurers 
— ^how  they  determined  that  it  would  not  do  to  found  a  city  in 
this  diabolical  neighbourhood— and  how  at  length,  with  fear 
and  trembling,  tliej  ventured  once  mor^  upon  the  briny  ele- 
ment, and  steered  their  course  back  for  Communipavv^  Suffice 
it.  in  simx^le  brevity,  to  say,  that  after  toiling  back  through  the 
scenes  of  their  yesterday's  voyage,  thej  at  length  opened  the 
southern  point  of  Manna-hata.  and  gained  a  distant  view  of 
their  beloved  Communipaw. 

And  liere  they  were  opposed  by  an  obstinate  eddy,  that  re- 
sisted all  the  efforts  of  the  exhausted  mariners.  Weary  and 
dispirited,  they  could  no  longer  make  head  against  the  powei 
of  the  tide,  or  rather,  as  some  will  have  it,  of  old  Neptune, 
who,  anxious  to  guide  them  to  a  spot  whereon  should  b^ 
founded  his  stronghold  in  this  western  world,  sent  half  a  score 
of  potent  billows,  that  rolled  the  tub  of  Commodore  Van  Kort- 
landt  high  and  dry  on  the  shores  of  Manna-hata. 


A  niSrORY  OF  NEW-YORK 


81 


Having  thus  in  a  manner  been  guided  by  supernatural 
po^ver  to  this  deliglitful  island,  liheir  first  care  ^vas  to  light  a 
fire  at  the  foot  of  a  large  tree,  that  stood  upon  the  point  at 
present  ctilled  the  Batteiy.  Then  -gathering  together  great 
store  of  oystf^rs  which  abounded  on  the  shore,  and  emptying 
the  contents  of  their  wallets,  they  prepared  and  made  a  sump- 
tuous council  repast.  The  worthy  Van  Kortlandt  was  observed 
to  be  particularly  zealous  in  his  devotions  to  the  trencher ;  for 
having  the  cares  of  the  cxi^odition  especially  committed  to  his 
care,  he  deemed  it  incumbent  on  'lim  to  eat  profoundly  for  the 
public  good.  In  proportion  as  he  filled  himself  to  the  very 
brim  with  the  dainty  viands  before  him,  did  the  heart  of  this 
excellent  burgher  rise  up  towards  his  throat,  until  he  seemed 
crammed  and  almost  choked  with  good  eating  and  good 
nature.  And  at  such  times  it  is,  when  a  man's  heart  is  in  his 
throat,  that  he  may  more  truly  be  said  to  speak  from  it,  and 
his  speeches  abound  with  kindness  and  good-fellowship.  Thus 
the  worthy  Oloffe  having  swallowed  ^he  last  possible  morsel, 
and  washed  it  doAvn  with  a  fervent  potation,  felt  his  heart 
yearning,  and  his  whole  frame  in  a  manner  dilating  with  un- 
bounded benevolence.  Every  thing  around  him  seemed  excel- 
lent and  delightful ;  and,  laying  his  hands  on  each  side  of  his 
capacious  periphery,  and  rolling  his  half -closed  eyes  around  on 
the  beautiful  diversity  of  land  and  water  before  him,  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  fat  half -smothered  voice,  "What  a  charming 
prospect !"  The  words  died  away  in  his  throat — ^he  seemed  to 
ponder  on  the  fair  scene  for  a  moment— his  eyelids  heavily 
closed  over  their  orbs— his  head  drooped  upon  his  bosom— he 
slowly  sunk  upon  the  green  turf,  and  a  deep  sleep  stole  gradu- 
ally upon  him. 

And  the  sage  Oloffe  dreamed  a  dream— and  lo,  the  good  St. 
Nicholas  came  riding  over  the  tops  of  the  trees,  in  that  self- 
same wagon  wherein  he  brings  his  yearly  presents  to  children, 
and  he  came  and  descended  hard  by  where  the  heroes  of  Com- 
munipaw  had  made  their  late  repast.  And  the  shrewd  Van 
Kortlandt  knew  him  by  his  broad  hat,  his  long  pipe,  and  the 
resemblance  which  he  bore  to  the  figure  on  the  bow  of  the 
Goede  Vrouw.  And  he  lit  his  pipe  by  the  fire,  and  sat  himself 
dovvTi  and  smoked ;  and  as  he  smoked,  the  smoke  from  his  pipe 
ascended  into  the  air,  and  spread  like  a  cloud  overhead.  And 
Oloffe  bethought  him,  and  he  hastened  and  climbed  up  to  the 
top  of  one  of  the  tallest  trees,  and  saw  that  the  smoke  spread 
over  a  great  extent  of  country— and  as  he  considered  ii  more 


82 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YOliK 


attentively,  he  fancied  that  the  great  volume  of  smoke  as- 
sumed a  variety  of  marvellous  forms,  where  in  dim  obscurity 
ho  saw  shadowed  out  palaces  and  domes  and  lolty  spires,  all  of 
wliich  lasted  but  a  moment,  and  then  faded  away,  until  the 
whole  rolled  off,  and  nothing  but  the  greon  woods  were  left. 
And  when  St.  Nicholas  had  smoked  his  pipe,  he  twisted  it  in 
his  hat-band,  and  laying  liis  finger  beside  his  nose,  gave  the 
astonished  Van  Kortiandt  a  very  significant  wink,  then  mount- 
ing his  wagon,  he  returned  over  the  tree-tops  and  disappeared. 

And  Van  Kortlandt  awoke  from  his  sleep  greatly  instructed, 
and  he  aroused  his  companions,  and  related  to  them  his  dream, 
and  interpreted  it,  that  it  was  the  will  of  St.  Nicholas  that  they 
should  settle  down  and  build  the  city  here.  And  that  the 
smoke  of  the  pipe  was  a  type  how  vast  should  be  the  extent  of 
the  city ;  inasmuch  as  the  volumes  of  its  smoke  should  spread 
over  a  wide  extent  of  country.  And  they  all,  with  one  voice, 
assented  to  this  interpretatioR,  excepting  Mynheer  Ten  Broeck, 
who  declared  the  meaning  to  be  that  it  should  be  a  city  wherein 
a  little  fire  should  occasion  a  great  smoke,  or  in  other  words,  a 
very  vapouring  little  city— both  which  interpretations  have 
strangely  come  to  pass ! 

The  great  object  of  their  perilous  expedition,  therefore,  being 
thus  happily  accomplished,  the  voyagers  returned  merrily  to 
Communipaw,  where  they  were  received  with  great  rejoicings. 
And  here  calling  a  general  meeting  of  all  the  wise  men  and  the 
dignitaries  of  Pavonia,  they  related  the  whole  history  of  their 
voyage,  and  of  the  dream  of  Oloffe  Van  Kortlandt.  And  the 
people  lifted  up  their  voices  and  blessed  the  good  St.  Nicholas, 
and  from  that  time  forth  the  sage  Van  Kortlandt  was  held 
more  in  honour  than  ever,  for  his  great  talent  at  dreaming, 
and  was  pronounced  a  most  useful  citizen  and  a  right  good 
man — when  he  was  asleep. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CONTAINING  AN  ATTEMPT  AT  ETYMOLOGY— AND  OF  THE  FOUND- 
ING OF  THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW- AMSTERDAM. 

The  original  name  of  the  island  wherein  the  squadron  of 
Communipaw  was  thus  propitiously  thrown,  is  a  matter  of 
some  dispute,  and  has  already  undergone  considerable  vitiation 


A  UlSTOUY  OB'  JSEW-YOUK. 


83 


— a  melancholy  proof  of  the  instabihty  of  all  sublunary  things, 
and  the  vanity  of  all  our  hopes  of  lasting  fame !  For  who  can 
expect  his  name  will  liv^e  to  posterity,  when  even  the  names  of 
mighty  islands  are  thus  soon  lost  in  contradiction  and  uncer- 
tainty ? 

The  name  most  current  at  the  present  day,  and  which  is 
likewise  countenanced  by  the  great  historian  Va>nder  Donck, 
is  Manhattan  ;  which  is  said  to  have  originated  in  a  custom 
among  the  squaws,  in  the  early  settlement,  of  wearmg  men's 
hats,  as  is  still  done  among  many  tribes.  "Hence,"  as  we  are 
told  by  an  old  govei-nor  who  was  somewhat  of  a  wag,  and 
flourished  almost  a  century  since,  and  had  paid  a  visit  to  the 
wits  of  Philadelphia,  ' '  hence  arose  the  appeUation  of  man-hat- 
on,  first  given  to  the  Indians,  and  afterwards  to  the  island  " — a 
stupid  joke ! — but  well  enough  for  a  governor. 

Among  the  more  venerable  sources  of  information  on  this 
subject,  is  that  valuable  history  of  the  American  possessions, 
written  by  Master  Richard  Blome  in  1687,  wherein  it  is  called 
Manliadaes  and  Manahanent ;  nor  must  I  forget  the  excellent 
little  book,  full  of  precious  matter,  of  that  authentic  historian, 
John  Josselyn,  Gent.,  who  expressly  caUs  it  Manadaes. 

Another  etymology  still  more  ancient,  and  sanctioned  by 
the  countenance  of  our  ever-to-be-lamented  Dutch  ancestors,  is 
that  found  in  certain  letters  still  extant;*  which  passed  be- 
tween the  early  governors  and  their  neighbouring  powers, 
wherein  it  is  called  indifferently  Monhattoes— Munhatos,  and 
Manhattoes,  which  are  evidently  unmiportant  variations  of 
the  same  name;  for  our  wise  forefathers  set  httle  store  by 
those  niceties  either  in  orthography  or  orthoepy  v/hich  form 
the  sole  study  and  ambition  of  many  lea^rned  men  and  women 
of  this  hypercritical  age.  This  last  name  is  said  to  be  derived 
from  the  great  Indian  spirit  Manetho,  who  w^as  supposed  to 
make  this  island  his  favourite  abode,  on  account  of  its  uncom 
mon  delights.  For  the  Indian  traditions  affirm  that  the  bay 
was  once  a  translucid  lake,  filled  with  silver  and  golden  fish, 
in  the  midst  of  which  lay  this  beautiful  island,  covered  with 
every  variety  of  fruits  and  flowers ;  but  that  the  sudden  uTup- 
tion  of  the  Hudson  laid  waste  these  bhssful  scenes,  and 
Manetho  took  his  flight  beyond  the  great  waters  of  Ontario. 

These,  however,  are  fabulous  legends  to  which  very  cau- 
tious credence  must  be  given;  and  although  I  am  willing  to 


*  Vide  Hazarrl  s  Col.  State  Papers. 


84 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


admit  the  last  quoted  orthography  of  the  name,  as  very  suit« 
able  for  prose,  yet  is  there  another  one  founded  on  still  more 
ancient  and  indisputable  authority,  wliich  I  particularly  de- 
light in,  seeing  that  it  is  at  cnce  poetical,  melodious,  and  signi- 
ficant— and  this  is  recorded  in  the  before-mentioned  voyage  of 
the  great  Hudson,  written  by  master  Juet;  who  clearly  and 
correctly  colls  it  Manna-hata — that  is  to  say,  the  island  of 
Manna,  or  in  other  words — "a  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey." 

It  having  been  solemnly  resolved  that  the  seat  of  empire 
should  be  transferred  from  the  gi-een  shores  of  Pavonia  to  this 
delectable  island,  a  vast  multitude  embarked,  and  migrated 
across  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson,  under  the  guidance  of  Oloffe 
the  Dreamer,  who  was  appointed  protector  or  patron  to  the 
new  settlement. 

And  hear  let  me  bear  testimony  to  the  matchless  honesty 
and  magnanimity  of  our  worthy  forefathers,  who  purchased 
the  30.il  of  the  native  Indians  before  erecting  a  single  roof — a 
circumstance  singular  and  almost  incredible  in  the  annals  of 
discovery  and  colonization. 

The  first  settlement  was  made  on  the  south-west  point  of  the 
island,  on  the  very  spot  where  the  good  St.  Nicholas  had  ap- 
peared in  the  dream.  Here  they  built  a  mighty  and  impreg- 
nable fort  and  trading  house,  called  Fort  Amsterdam,  v/l:!ich 
stood  on  that  eminence  at  present  occupied  by  the  custom- 
house, with  the  open  space  now  called  the  Bowling-Green  in 
front. 

Around  this  potent  fortress  was  soon  seen  a  numerous  pro- 
geny of  little  Dutch  houses,  with  tiled  roofs,  aU  which  seemed 
most  lovingly  to  nestle  under  its  walls,  like  a  brood  of  half- 
fled  gcd  chickens  sheltered  under  the  wings  of  the  mother  hen. 
The  whole  was  surrounded  by  an  inclosure  of  strong  pahsa- 
does,  to  guard  against  any  sudden  irmption  of  the  savages, 
who  wandered  in  hordes  about  the  swamps  and  forests  that 
extended  over  those  tracts  of  country  at  present  caUed  Broad- 
way, Wall-street,  William-street,  and  Pearl-street. 

No  sooner  was  the  colony  once  planted,  than  it  took  root  and 
throve  amazingly;  for  it  would  seem  that  this  thrice-favoured 
island  is  like  a  munificent  dunghill,  where  every  foreign  weed 
finds  kindly  nourishment,  and  soon  shoots  up  and  expands  to 
greatness. 

And  now  the  infant  settlement  having  advanced  in  age  and 
stature,  it  was  thouj:;ht  hi^h  time  it  should  receive  an  honest 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


85 


Christian  name,  and  it  was  accordingly  called  New-Amster< 
DAM.  It  is  true,  there  were  some  advocates  for  the  original 
Indian  name,  and  many  of  the  best  writers  of  the  province  did 
long  continue  to  call  it  by  the  title  of  ' '  Manhattoes ;"  but  this 
was  discountenanced  by  the  authorities,  as  being  heathenish 
and  savage.  Besides,  it  was  considered  an  excellent  and  praise- 
worthy  measure  to  name  it  after  a  great  city  of  the  old  world ; 
as  by  that  means  it  was  induced  to  emulate  the  greatness  and 
renown  of  its  namesake — in  the  manner  that  little  snivelling 
urchins  are  called  after  great  statesmen,  saints,  and  worthies 
and  renowned  generals  of  yore,  upon  wliich  they  all  industri- 
ously copy  their  examples,  and  come  to  be  very  mighty  men  in 
their  day  and  generation. 

The  thriving  state  of  the  settlement,  and  the  rapid  increase 
of  houses,  gradually  awakened  the  good  Oloffe  from  a  deep 
lethargy,  into  which  he  had  faUen  after  the  building  of  the 
fort.  He  now  began  to  think  it  was  time  some  plan  should 
be  devised  on  which  the  increasing  town  should  be  built. 
Summoning,  therefore,  his  counsellors  and  coadjvitors  together, 
they  took  pipe  in  mouth,  and  forthwith  sunk  into  a  very  sound 
deliberation  on  the  subiect. 

At  the  very  outset  or  the  business  an  unexpected  difference 
of  opinion  arose,  and  I  mention  it  with  much  sorrovfing,  as 
being  the  first  altercation  on  record  in  the  councils  of  New- 
Amsterdam.  It  was  a  breaking  forth  of  the  grudge  and  heart- 
burning that  had  existed  between  those  two  eminent  burghers, 
Mynheers  Tenbroeck  and  Hardenbroeck,  ever  since  their  un- 
happy altercation  on  the  coast  of  Bellevue.  The  great  Harden- 
broeck had  waxed  very  wealthy  and  powerful,  from  his 
domains,  which  embraced  the  whole  chain  of  Apulean  moun- 
tains that  stretched  along  the  gulf  of  Kip's  Bay,  and  from 
part  of  which  his  descendants  have  been  expelled  in  later  ages 
by  the  powerful  clans  of  the  Joneses  and  the  Schermerhorncs. 

An  ingenious  plan  for  the  city  was  offered  by  Mynheer  Ten- 
broeck, who  proposed  that  it  should  be  cut  up  and  intersected 
by  canals,  after  the  manner  of  the  most  adinired  cities  in  Hol- 
land. To  this  Mynheer  Hardenbroeck  was  diametrically  op- 
posed, suggesting  in  place  thereof,  that  they  should  run  out 
docks  and  wharves,  by  means  of  piles  driven  into  the  bottom 
of  the  river,  on  vv^hich  the  town  should  be  built.  By  these 
means,  said  he  triumphantly,  shall  we  rescue  a  considerable 
space  of  territory  from  these  immense  rivers,  and  build  a  city 
that  shaU  rival  Amsterdam,  Venice,  or  any  amphibious  city  io 


86 


A  UIISTORY  OF  NEWTORK. 


Europe.  To  this  proposition,  Ten  Broeck  (or  Ten  Breeches) 
rcphed,  with  a  look  of  as  much  scorn  as  he  could  possibly  as- 
sume, lie  cast  the  utmost  censure  upon  the  plan  of  his  antago 
nist,  as  being  preposterous,  and  against  the  very  order  of  things, 
as  he  would  leave  to  every  true  Hollander.  "For  what,"  eaid 
he,  "  is  a  town  without  canals? — it  is  a  body  without  veins  and 
arteries,  and  must  perish  for  want  of  a  free  circulation  of  the 
vital  fluid."  Tough  Breeches,  on  the  contrary,  retorted  with 
a  sarcasm  upon  his  antagonist,  who  was  somewhat  of  r.n  arid, 
dry-boned  habit;  he  remarked,  that  as  to  the  circulation  of 
the  blood  being  necessary  to  existence,  Mynheer  Ten  Breeches 
was  a  living  contradiction  to  his  own  assertion ;  for  every  body 
knew  there  had  not  a  drop  of  blood  cu-culated  through  his 
wind-dried  carcass  for  good  ten  years,  and  yet  there  was  not 
a  greater  busy-body  in  the  whole  colony.  Pei*sonalities  have 
seldom  much  effect  in  making  converts  in  argimient  —  nor 
have  I  ever  seen  a  man  convinced  of  error  by  being  convicted 
of  deformity.  At  least  such  was  not  the  case  at  present.  Ten 
Breeches  was  very  acrimonious  in  reply,  and  Tough  Breeches, 
who  was  a  sturdy  little  man,  and  never  gave  up  the  last  word, 
rejomed  with  mcreasing  spirit — Ten  Breeches  had  the  advan- 
tage of  the  greatest  volubility,  but  Tough  Breeches  had  that 
invaluable  coat  of  mail  in  argument  called  obstinacy— Ten 
Breeches  had,  therefore,  the  most  mettle,  but  Tough  Breeches 
the  best  bottom— so  that  though  Ten  Breeches  made  a  dreadful 
clattering  about  his  ears,  and  battered  and  belaboured  him  with 
hard  words  and  sound  arguments,  yet  Tough  Breeches  hung  on 
most  resolutely  to  the  last.  They  parted,  therefore,  as  is  usual 
in  all  arguments  where  both  parties  are  in  the  right,  without 
coming  to  any  conclusion— but  they  hated  each  other  most 
heartily  for  ever  after,  and  a  similar  breach  Avith  that  between 
the  houses  of  Capulct  and  Montague  did  ensue  between  the 
families  of  Ten  Breeches  and  Tough  Breeches. 

I  woidd  not  Fatigue  my  rep.der  with  these  dull  matters  of 
fact,  but  that  my  duty  as  a  faithful  historian  requires  that  I 
should  be  particular— and,  in  truth,  as  I  am  now  treating  oi 
the  critical  period,  when  our  city,  like  a  young  tmg,  first  re- 
ceived the  twists  and  turns  that  have  since  contributed  to  give  i 
it  the  present  picturesque  irregularity  for  which  it  is  cele-  ] 
brated,  I  cannot  be  too  minute  in  detaihng  their  first  causes.  ( 

After  the  imhappy  altercation  T  have  just  mentioned.  I  do  { 
not  find  that  any  thing  farther  was  said  on  the  subject  worthy 
of  being  recorded.    The  council,  consisting  of  the  largest  and 


A  IIISTOIIY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


87 


oldest  heads  in  the  community,  met  regularly  once  a  wee  to 
ponder  on  this  momentous  subject.  But  either  they  wer%do- 
terred  by  the  war  of  words  they  had  witnessed,  or  they  ^vere 
naturally  averse  to  the  exercise  of  the  tongue,  and  the  conse- 
quent exercise  of  the  brains — certain  it  is,  the  most  profound- 
silence  was  maintained --the  question  as  usual  lay  on  the  table 
—the  members  quietly  smoked  their  pipes,  making  but  few 
laws,  without  ever  enforcing  any,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
affairs  of  the  settlement  went  on— as  it  pleased  God. 

As  most  of  the  council  were  but  little  skilled  in  the  mystery 
of  combinmg  pot-hoolcs  and  hangers,  they  determined  most 
judiciously  not  to  puzzle  either  themselves  or  posterity  v/ith 
voluminous  records.  The  secretary,  however,  kept  the  min- 
utes of  the  council  with  tolerable  precision,  in  a  large  vellum 
folio,  fastened  with  massy  brass  clasps;  the  journal  of  each 
meetmg  consisted  but  of  two  lines,  stating  in  Dutch,  that  "the 
council  sat  this  day,  and  smoked  twelve  pipes,  on  the  affairs  of 
the  colony."  By  which  it  appears  that  the  first  settlers  did 
noc  regulate  their  time  by  hours,  but  pipes,  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  they  measure  distances  in  Holland  at  this  very  time ;  an 
admirably  exact  measurement,  as  a  pipe  in  the  mouth  of  a 
true-born  Dutchman  is  never  liable  to  those  accidents  and 
irregularities  that  are  continually  putting  our  clocks  out  of 
order.  It  is  said,  moreover,  that  a  regular  smoker  was  ap- 
pointed as  council  clock,  whose  duty  was  to  sit  at  the  elbow 
of  the  president  and  smoke  incessantly :  every  puff  marked  a 
division  of  time  as  exactly  as  a  second-hand,  and  the  knock- 
ing out  of  the  ashes  of  liis  pipe  was  equivalent  to  striking  the 
hour„ 

In  this  manner  did  the  profound  council  of  New- Amsterdam 
smoke,  and  doze,  and  ponder,  from  week  to  w^eek,  month  to 
month,  and  year  to  year,  in  what  manner  they  should  con- 
struct their  infant  settlement — meanwhile,  the  town  took  care 
of  itself,  and  like  a  sturdy  brat  which  ?fj  suffered  to  run  about 
wild,  unshackled  by  clouts  and  bandages  ana  other  abomina,- 
tions  by  which  your  notable  nurses  and  sage  old  women  cripple 
and  disfigure  the  children  of  men,  increased  so  rapidly  in 
strength  and  magnitude,  that  before  the  honest  burgomasters 
had  determined  upon  a  plan,  it  was  too  late  to  put  it  in  ex- 
ecution—whereupon they  wisely  abandoned  the  subject  al 
together. 


88 


A  HISTORY  OF  liEW-YOUK. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  THE  CITY  OP  NEW-AMSTERDAM  WAXED  GREAT,  UNDER  THE 
PROTECTION  OF  OLOFFE  THE  DREAMEH. 

There  is  something  exceedingly  delusive  in  thus  looking 
back,  through  the  long  vista  of  departed  years,  and  catching 
a  ghmpse  of  the  fairy  realms  of  antiquity  that  lie  beyond. 
Like  some  goodly  landscape  melting  into  distance,  they  receive 
a  thousand  charms  from  their  very  obscurity,  and  the  fancy 
delights  to  fill  up  their  outlines  with  graces  and  excellencies 
of  its  own  creation.  Thus  beam  on  my  imagination  those 
happier  days  of  our  city,  when  as  yet  New- Amsterdam  was  a 
mere  pastoral  town,  shrouded  in  groves  of  sycamore  and  wil- 
lows, and  surrounded  by  trackless  forests  and  wide-spreading 
waters,  that  seemed  to  shut  out  all  the  cares  and  vanities  of  a 
wicked  world. 

In  those  days  did  this  embryo  city  present  the  rare  and  noble 
spectacle  of  a  community  governed  without  laws;  and  thus 
being  left  to  its  own  course,  and  the  fostering  care  of  Provi- 
dence, increased  as  rapidly  as  though  it  had  been  burthened 
with  a  dozen  panniers-full  of  those  sage  laws  that  are  usually 
heaped  on  the  backs  of  young  cities— in  order  to  make  them 
grow.  And  in  this  particular  I  greatly  admu-e  the  wisdom 
and  sound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  displayed  by  the  sage 
Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  and  his  feUow-legislators.  For  my  part, 
I  have  not  so  bad  an  opinion  of  mankind  as  many  of  my 
brother  philosophers.  I  do  not  think  poor  human  nature  so 
sorry  a  piece  of  workmanship  as  they  would  make  it  out  to 
be ;  and  as  far  as  I  have  observed,  I  am  fully  satisfied  that 
man,  if  left  to  himself,  would  about  as  readily  go  right  as 
wrong.  It  is  only  this  eternally  sounding  in  his  ears  that  it 
is  his  duty  to  go  right,  that  makes  him  go  the  very  reverse. 
The  noble  independence  of  his  nature  revolts  at  this  intolerable 
tyranny  of  law,  and  the  perpetual  interference  of  ofiicious  mo-  , 
raUty,  which  is  ever  besetting  his  path  with  finger-posts  and  ] 
directions  to  ''keep  to  the  right,  as  the  law  directs;"  and  g 
like  a  spirited  urchin,  ho  turns  directly  contrary,  and  gallops  ^ 
through  mud  and  mire,  over  hedges  and  ditches,  merely  to 
show  that  he  is  a  lad  of  spirit,  and  out  of  Ms  leading-strings. 
And  these  opinions  are  amply  substantiated  by  what  I  have  ^ 


i 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


89 


above  said  of  our  worthy  ancestors;  who  never  being  he- 
preached  and  he-lectured,  and  guided  and  governed  by  stat- 
utes and  laws  and  by-laws,  as  are  their  more  enlightened 
descendants,  did  one  and  all  demean  themselves  honestly  and 
peaceably,  out  of  pure  ignorance,  or  in  other  words,  because 
they  knew  no  better. 

Nor  must  I  omit  to  record  one  of  the  earhest  measures  of  this 
infant  settlement,  inasmuch  as  it  shows  the  piety  of  our  fore- 
fathers, and  that,  hke  good  Christians,  they  were  always  ready 
to  serve  God,  after  they  had  first  served  themselves.  Thus, 
having  quietly  settled  themselves  down,  and  provided  for  their 
ewn  comfort,  they  bethought  themselves  of  testifying  their 
gratitude  to  the  great  and  good  St.  Nicholas,  for  his  protecting 
care  in  guiding  them  to  this  delectable  abode.  To  this  end  they 
built  a  fair  and  goodly  chapel  within  the  fort,  which  they  con- 
secrated to  his  name;  whereupon  he  immediately  took  the 
town  of  New- Amsterdam  under  his  pecuhar  patronage,  and 
he  has  ever  since  been,  and  I  devoutly  hope  will  ever  be,  the 
tutelar  saint  of  this  excellent  city. 
,  I  am  moreover  told  that  there  is  a  Uttle  legendary  book, 
j  somewhere  extant,  written  in  Low  Dutch,  which  says  that  the 
image  of  this  renowned  saint,  which  whilome  gTaced  the  bow- 
sprit of  the  Goede  Vrouw,  was  elevated  in  front  of  this  chapel, 
in  the  very  centre  of  what,  in  modem  days,  is  called  the  Bowl- 
ing-Green.  And  the  legend  further  treats  of  divers  miracles 
wrought  by  the  mighty  pipe  which  the  saint  held  in  his  mouth; 
a  whiff  of  which  was  a  sovereign  cure  for  an  indigestion — an 
invaluable  relic  in  tliis  colony  of  brave  trenchermen.  As,  how- 
ever, in  spite  of  the  most  dihgent  search,  I  cannot  lay  my 
hands  upon  this  little  book,  I  must  confess  that  I  entertain 
considerable  doubt  on  the  subject. 

Thus  benignly  fostered  by  the  good  St.  Nicholas,  the  burgh- 
ers of  New- Amsterdam  beheld  their  settlement  increase  in 
'  magnitude  and  population,  and  soon  become  the  metropolis  of 
divers  settlements,  and  an  extensive  territory.    Already  had 
'  the  disastrous  pride  of  colonies  and  dependencies,  those  banes 
*■  of  a  sound-hearted  empire,  entered  into  their  imaginations ;  and 
i  Fort  Aurania  on  the  Hudson,  Fort  Nassau  on  the  Delaware, 
1  and  Fort  Goede  Hoep  on  the  Connecticut  river,  seemed  to  be 
the  darling  offspring  of  the  venerable  council.*   Thus  prosper- 


♦  The  province  about  this  time,  extended  on  the  north  to  Fort  Aurania,  or  Orange, 
'jiow  the  city  of  Albany,)  situated  about  160  miles  up  the  Hudson  river.  Indeed, 


90 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- TORE. 


ously,  to  all  appearance,  did  the  province  of  New-Netherlands 
advance  in  power;  and  the  early  history  of  its  metropolis  pre- 
sents a  fair  page,  unsullied  by  crime  or  calamity. 

Hoi'des  of  painted  savages  still  lurked  about  the  tangled  for- 
ests and  rich  bottoms  of  the  unsettled  part  of  the  island— the 
hunter  pitched  liis  rude  bower  of  skins  and  bark  beside  the  riils 
that  ran  through  the  cool  and  shady  glens;  while  here  and 
there  might  be  seen,  on  some  sunny  knoll,  a  group  of  Indian 
wigwams,  whose  smoke  rose  above  the  neighbouring  trees,  and 
floated  in  the  transparent  atmosphere.  B}^  degrees,  a  mutual 
good-will  had  grown  up  between  these  wandering  beings  and 
the  bm'ghers  of  New- Amsterdam.  Our  benevolent  forefathers 
endeavoured  as  much  as  possible  to  meliorate  their  situation, 
by  giving  them  gin,  rum,  and  glass  beads,  in  exchange  for 
their  peltries;  for  it  seems  the  kind-hearted  Dutchmen  had 
conceived  a  great  friendship  for  their  savage  neighbours,  on 
accoimt  of  their  being  pleasant  men  to  trade  with,  and  little 
skilled  in  the  art  of  making  a  bargain. 

Now  and  then  a  crew  of  these  half-human  sons  of  the  forest 
would  make  their  appearance  in  the  streets  of  New- Amster- 
dam, fantastically  painted  and  decorated  with  beads  and  flaunt- 
ing feathers,  saimtering  about  with  an  air  of  listless  indiffer- 
ence—sometimes in  the  market-place,  instructing  the  little 
Dutch  boys  in  the  use  of  the  bow  and  arrow — at  other  times, 
inflamed  with  liquor,  swaggering  and  whooping  and  yelling 
about  the  town  like  so  many  fiends,  to  the  great  dismay  of  all 
the  good  wives,  who  would  hurry  their  children  into  the  house, 
fasten  the  doors,  and  throw  water  upon  the  enemy  from  the 
garret-VkdndoAvs.  It  is  worthy  of  mention  here,  that  our  fore- 
fathers were  very  particular  in  holding  up  these  wild  men  as 
excellent  domestic  examples — and  for  reasons  that  may  be 
f]:athered  from  the  history  of  master  Ogilby,  who  tells  us,  that 
' '  for  the  least  offence  the  bridegroom  soundly  beats  his  wife 
and  turns  her  out  of  doors,  and  marries  another,  insomuch 
that  some  of  them  have  every  year  a  new  wife."  Whether 


the  province  claimed  quite  to  tlie  river  St.  Lawrence;  but  tliis  claim  was  not  much 
insisted  on  at  the  time,  as  the  country  beyond  Fort  Aurania  was  a  perfect  wilder- 
ness. On  the  south,  the  province  reached  to  Fort  Nassau,  on  the  South  river,  since 
called  the  Delaware;  and  on  the  east,  it  extended  to  the  Varsche  (or  Fresh)  river 
now  the  Coiuiecticut.  On  this  last  frontier  was  likewise  erected  a  fort  or  trading 
house,  much  about  the  spot  where  at  present  is  situated  the  pleasant  town  of  Hart 
ford.  This  was  called  Fort  Goede  Hoep,  (or  Good  Hope,)  and  was  intended  as  wel 
for  the  purposes  of  trade,  as  of  defence. 


A  mSTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


91 


this  awful  example  had  any  influence  or  not,  history  does  not 
mention ;  but  it  is  certain  that  our  grandmothers  were  miracles 
of  fidelity  and  obedience. 

True  it  is,  that  the  good  understanding  between  our  ances- 
tors and  theii-  savage  neighbours  was  liable  to  occasional  inter- 
ruptions ;  and  I  have  heard  my  grandmother,  who  was  a  very 
wise  old  woman,  and  well  versed  in  the  liistory  of  these  parts, 
joll  a  long  story,  of  a  winter's  evening,  about  a  battle  between 
the  New-Amsterdamers  and  the  Indians,  which  was  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Peach  War,  and  which  took  place  near  a  peach 
orchard,  in  a  dark  glen,  wliich  for  a  long  while  went  by  the 
name  of  tlie  Murderer's  Valley. 

The  legend  of  this  sylvan  war  was  long  current  among  the 
nurses,  old  wives,  and  other  ancient  chroniclers  of  the  place ; 
but  time  and  improvement  have  almost  obUterated  both  the 
tradition  and  the  scene  of  battle ;  for  what  was  once  the  blood- 
stained valley  is  now  in  the  centre  of  this  populous  city,  and 
known  by  the  name  of  Dey -street. 

The  accimiulating  wealth  and  consequence  of  New- Amster- 
dam and  its  dependencies  at  length  awakened  the  tender  sohci- 
!  tude  of  the  mother  country;  who,  finding  it  a  thriving  and 
opulent  colony,  and  that  it  promised  to  yield  great  profit,  and 
no  trouble,  all  at  once  became  wonderfully  anxious  about  its 
safety,  and  began  to  load  it  with  tokens  of  regard,  in  the  same 
manner  that  your  knowing  people  are  sure  to  overwhelm  rich 
relations  with,  their  affection  and  loving-kindness. 

The  usual  marks  of  protection  shown  by  mother  countries  to 
wealthy  colonies  were  forthmth  manifested — the  first  care  al- 
ways being  to  send  rulers  to  the  new  settlement,  with  orders 
to  squeeze  as  much  revenue  from  it  as  it  will  jdeld.  Accord- 
ingly, in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1629,  Mynheer  Wouter  Van 
TwiLLER  was  appointed  governor  of  the  province  of  Nieuw- 
'   Nederlandts,  imder  the  commission  and  control  of  their  High 
'   Mightinesses,  the  Lords  States  General  of  the  United  Nether- 
'    lands,  and  the  privileged  West  Lidia  Company. 
'      This  renowned  old  gentleman  arrived  at  New-Amsterdam  in 
^  the  merry  month  of  June,  the  sweetest  month  in  all  the  year ; 

when  Dan  Apollo  seems  to  dance  up  the  transparent  firma- 
*  ment — when  the  robin,  the  thrush,  and  a  thousand  other  wan- 
Jj|  ton  songsters  make  the  woods  to  resound  with  amorous  dit- 
fr,i  ties,  and  the  luxurious  little  boblincon  revels  among  the  clover 
«f  blossoms  of  the  meadows — all  which  happy  coincidence  per- 
:2j  suaded  the  old  dames  of  New-Amsterdam,  who  were  skilled  in 


92 


A  mSTORY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


the  art  of  foretelling  events,  that  this  was  to  be  a  happy  and 
prosperous  administration. 

But  as  it  would  be  derogatory  to  the  consequence  of  the  first 
Dutch  governor  of  the  great  province  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts, 
to  be  thus  scurvily  introduced  at  the  end  of  the  chapter,  I  will 
put  an  end  to  this  second  book  of  my  history,  that  I  may  usher 
him  in  with  more  dignity  in  the  beginning  of  my  next. 


A  MIS  TOUT  OF  NEW-YORK. 


98 


BOOK  III. 

IN  WHICH  IS  RECORDED  THE  GOLDEN  REIGN  OF 
WOUTER  VAN  TIVILLER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OP  THE  RENOWNED  WALTER  VAN  TWILLER — HIS  UNPARALLELED 
VIRTUES — AND  LIKEWISE  HIS  UNUTTERABLE  WISDOM  IN  THE 
LAW-CASE  OF  WANDLE  SCHOONHOVEN  AND  BARENT  BLEECKER 
—AND  THE  GREAT  ADMIRATION  OF  THE  PUBLIC  THEREAT. 

Grievous  and  very  much  to  be  commiserated  is  the  task  of 
the  feehng  historian  who  writes  the  history  of  his  native  land. 
If  it  fall  to  his  lot  to  be  the  sad  recorder  of  calamity  or  crime, 
the  mournful  page  is  watered  with  his  tears — nor  can  he  recall 
the  most  prosperous  and  blissful  era,  without  a  melancholy 
sigh  at  the  reflection  that  it  has  passed  aAvay  for  ever !  I  know 
not  whether  it  be  owing  to  an  immoderate  love  for  the  shn- 
pHcity  of  former  times,  or  to  that  certain  tenderness  of  heart 
incident  to  all  sentimental  historians ;  but  I  candidly  confess 
that  I  cannot  look  back  on  the  happier  days  of  our  city,  which 
I  now  describe,  without  a  sad  dejection  of  the  spirits.  With 
a  faltering  hand  do  I  withdraw  the  curtain  of  oblivion  that 
veils  the  modest  merit  of  our  venerable  ancestors,  and  as  their 
figures  rise  to  my  mental  vision,  humble  myself  before  the 
mighty  shades. 

Such  are  my  feehngs  when  I  revisit  the  family  mansion  of 
fche  Knickerbockers,  and  spend  a  lonely  hour  in  the  chamber 
where  hang  the  portraits  of  my  forefathers,  shrouded  in  dust, 
like  the  forms  they  represent.  With  pious  reverence  do  I  gaze 
on  the  countenances  of  those  renowned  burghers,  who  have 
preceded  me  in  the  steady  march  of  existence — whose  sober 
and  temperate  blood  now  meanders  through  my  veins,  flowing 
slower  and  slower  in  its  feeble  conduits,  until  its  current  shall 
soon  be  stopped  for  ever ! 


94 


A  HISTORY  OF  NKW-YORK. 


These,  say  I  to  myself,  are  but  frail  memorials  of  the  mighty 
men  who  flourished  in  the  days  of  the  patriarchs;  but  who, 
alas,  have  long  since  mouldered  in  that  tomb  towards  which  my 
steps  are  insensibly  and  irresistibly  hastening !  As  I  pace  the 
darkened  chamber,  and  lose  myself  in  melancholy  musings, 
the  shadowy  images  around  me  almost  seem  to  steal  once  more 
into  existence — their  countenances  to  assume  the  animation  of 
'iie— their  eyes  to  pursue  me  in  every  movement!  Carried 
away  by  the  delusions  of  fancy,  I  almost  imagine  myself  sur- 
rounded by  the  shades  of  the  departed,  and  holding  sweet  con- 
verse with  the  worthies  of  antiquity!  Ah,  hapless  Diedrichl 
born  in  a  degenerate  age,  abandoned  to  the  buffetings  of  for- 
tune—a stranger  and  a  weary  pilgrim  in  thy  native  land— blest 
with  no  weeping  wife,  nor  family  of  helpless  children;  but 
doomed  to  wander  neglected  through  those  crowded  streets, 
and  elbowed  by  foreign  upstarts  from  those  fair  abodes  where 
once  thine  ancestors  held  sovereign  empire ! 

Let  me  not,  however,  lose  the  historian  in  the  man,  nor 
suffer  the  doting  recollections  of  age  to  overcome  me,  while 
dwelling  with  fond  garrulity  on  the  virtuous  days  of  the  patri- 
archs—on those^  sweet  days  of  simplicity  and  ease,  which  never 
more  will  dawn  on  the  lovely  island  of  Manna-ha.ta ! 

The  renowned  Wouter  (or  Walter)  Van  Twiller  was  de- 
scended from  a  long  line  of  Dutch  burgomasters,  who  had 
successively  dozed  away  their  lives,  and  grown  fat  upon  the 
bench  of  magistracy  in  Rotterdam ;  and  who  had  comported 
themselves  with  such  singular  wisdom  and  propriety,  that 
they  were  never  either  heard  or  talked  of — which,  next  to  be- 
ing universally  applauded,  should  be  the  object  of  ambition  of 
all  sage  magistrates  and  rulers. 

The  surname  of  Twiller  is  said  to  be  a  corruption  of  the 
original  Twijfler,  which  in  English  means  doubter;  a  name 
admirably  descriptive  of  his  deliberative  habits.  For,  though 
he  was  a  man  shut  up  within  himself  like  an  oyster,  and  of 
such  a  profoundly  reflective  turn,  that  he  scarcely  ever  spoke 
except  in  monosyllables,  yet  did  he  never  make  up  his  mind 
l»n  any  doubtful  point.  This  was  clearly  accounted  for  by  his 
adherents,  who  affirmed  that  he  always  conceived  every  ob' 
ject  on  so  comprehensive  a  scale,  that  he  had  not  room  in  his 
head  to  turn  it  over  and  examine  both  sides  of  it,  so  that  he 
always  remained  in  doubt,  merely  in  consequence  of  the  aston- 
ishing magnitude  of  his  ideas ! 

There  are  two  opposite  ways  by  which  some  men  get  into  jia 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


95 


tice — one  by  talking  a  vast  deal  and  thinking  a  little,  and  the 
other  by  holding  their  tongues,  and  not  tliinking  at  all.  By 
the  first,  many  a  vapouring,  superficial  pretender  acquires  the 
reputation  of  a  man  of  quick  parts— by  the  other,  many  a  va- 
cant dunderpate,  like  the  owl,  the  stupidest  of  birds,  comes  to 
be  complimented  by  a  discerning  world  with  all  the  attributes 
of  wisdom.  This,  by  the  way,  is  a  mere  casual  remark,  which 
I  would  not  for  the  universe  have  it  thought  I  apply  to  Gov- 
ernor Van  Twiller.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a  very  wise 
Dutchman,  for  he  never  said  a  foohsh  thing — and  of  such  in- 
vmcibJe  gravity,  that  he  was  never  known  to  laugh,  or  even 
to  smile,  through  the  course  of  a  long  and  prosperous  life. 
Certain,  however,  it  is,  there  never  was  a  matter  proposed, 
however  simple,  and  on  wliich  your  common  narrow-minded 
mortals  would  rashly  determine  at  the  first  glance,  but  what 
the  renowned  Wouter  put  on  a  mighty,  mysterious,  vacant 
kind  of  look,  shook  his  capacious  head,  and,  having  smoked 
for  five  minutes  with  redoubled  earnestness,  sagely  observed, 
that  "he  had  his  doubts  ahout  the  matter" — which  in  process 
of  time  gained  him  the  character  of  a  man  slow  in  behef ,  and 
not  easily  imposed  on. 

The  person  of  this  illustrious  old  gentleman  was  as  regularly 
formed,  and  nobly  proportioned,  as  though  it  had  been  moulded 
by  the  hands  of  some  cunning  Dutch  statuary,  as  a  model  of 
majesty  and  lordly  grandeur.  He  was  exactly  five  feet  six 
inches  in  height,  and  six  feet  five  inches  in  circumference.  His 
head  was  a  perfect  sphere,  and  of  such  stupendous  dimensions, 
that  dame  Nature,  with  all  her  sex's  ingenuity,  would  Jiave 
been  puzzled  to  construct  a  neck  capable  of  supporting  it; 
wherefore  she  wisely  declined  the  attempt,  and  settled  it  firmly 
on  the  top  of  his  back-bone,  just  between  the  shoulders,  His 
body  was  of  an  oblong  form,  particularly  capacious  at  bottom ; 
which  was  wisely  ordered  by  Providence,  seeing  that  he  was  a 
man  of  sedentary  habits,  and  very  averse  to  the  idle  labour  of 
walking.  His  legs,  though  exceeding  short,  were  sturdy  in  pro» 
portion  to  the  weight  they  had  to  sustain ;  so  that  when  erect 
he  had  not  a  little  the  appearance  of  a  robustious  beer-barrel, 
standing  on  skids.  His  face,  that  infallible  index  of  the  mind, 
presented  a  vast  expanse,  perfectly  unfurrowed  or  deformed  by 
any  of  those  lines  and  angles  which  disfigure  the  human  coun- 
tenance Avith  what  is  termed  expression.  Two  small  gray  eyes 
twinkled  feebly  in  the  midst,  like  two  stars  of  lesser  magni- 
tude in  the  hazy  firmament;  and  his  full-fed  cheeks,  which 


96 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


seemed  to  have  taken  toll  of  every  thing  that  went  into  his 
mouth,  were  cui'iously  mottled  and  streaked  with  dusky  red, 
like  a  Spitzenberg  apple. 

His  habits  were  as  regular  as  his  person.  He  daily  took  his 
four  stated  meals,  appropriating  exactly  an  hour  to  each ;  he 
smoked  and  doubted  eight  hours,  and  he  slept  the  remaining 
twelve  of  the  four-and-twenty.  Such  was  the  renowned  Wou- 
ter  Van  Twiller— a  true  philosopher,  for  liis  mind  was  either 
elevated  above,  or  tranquilly  settled  below,  the  cares  and  per- 
plexities of  this  world.  He  had  Hved  in  it  for  years,  without 
f eehng  the  least  curiosity  to  know  whether  the  sun  revolved 
round  it,  or  it  round  the  sun ;  and  he  had  watched,  for  at  least 
half  a  century,  the  smoke  curling  from  his  pipe  to  the  ceihng, 
without  once  troubling  his  head  vnih.  any  of  those  numerous 
theories,  by  which  a  philosopher  would  have  perplexed  liis 
brain,  in  accounting  for  its  rising  above  the  suiTounding 
atmosphere. 

In  his  council  he  presided  with  gi'eat  state  and  solemnity. 
He  sat  in  a  huge  chair  of  solid  oak,  hewn  in  the  celebrated  for- 
est of  the  Hague,  fabricated  by  an  experienced  timmerman  of 
Amsterdam,  and  curiously  carved  about  the  arms  and  feet, 
into  exact  imitations  of  gigantic  eagle's  claws.  Instead  of  a 
sceptre,  he  swayed  a  long  Turkish  pipe,  wought  with  jasmin 
and  amber,  which  had  been  presented  to  a  Stadtholder  of  Hol- 
land, at  the  conclusion  of  a  treaty  with  one  of  the  petty  Bar- 
bary  powers.  In  this  stately  chair  would  he  sit,  and  this 
magnificent  pipe  would  he  smoke,  shaking  his  right  knee  with 
a  constant  motion,  and  fixing  his  eye  for  hours  together  upon 
a  little  print  of  Amsterdam,  which  hung  in  a  black  frame 
against  the  opposite  Avail  of  the  council  chamber.  Nay,  it  has 
even  been  said,  that  vv^hen  any  dehberation  of  extraordinary 
length  and  intricacy  was  on  the  carpet,  the  renowned  Wouter 
would  absolutely  shut  his  eyes  for  fidl  two  hours  at  a  time, 
that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  by  external  objects — and  at 
such  times  the  internal  commotion  of  his  mind  was  evinced  by 
certain  regular  guttural  sounds,  which  his  admirers  declared 
were  merely  the  noise  of  conflict,  made  by  his  contending 
doubts  and  opinions. 

It  is  with  infinite  difficulty  I  have  been  enabled  to  collect 
these  biographical  anecdotes  of  the  great  man  under  consider 
ation.  The  facts  respecting  him  were  so  scattered  and  vague, 
tind  divers  of  them  so  questionable  in  point  of  authenticity, 
that  I  have  had  to  give  up  the  search  after  many,  and  decline 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK, 


91 


the  admission  of  still  more,  which  would  have  tended  to  heigh- 
ten the  colouring  of  his  portrait. 

I  have  been  the  more  anxious  to  delineate  fully  the  person 
and  habits  of  the  renowned  Van  Twiller,  from  the  considera- 
tion that  he  was  not  only  the  first,  but  also  the  best  governor 
that  ever  presided  over  this  ancient  and  respectable  province: 
and  so  tranquil  and  benevolent  was  his  reign,  that  I  do  not 
find  throughout  the  whole  of  it,  a  single  instance  of  any  offen- 
der being  brc  ught  to  punishment— a  most  indubitable  sign  of 
a  merciful  governor,  and  a  case  unparalleled,  excepting  in  the 
reign  of  the  illustrious  King  Log,  from  whom,  it  is  hinted,  the 
renowned  Van  Twiller  was  a  lineal  descendant. 

The  very  outset  of  the  career  of  this  excellent  magistrate 
was  distinguished  by  an  example  of  legal  acumen,  that  gave 
flattering  presage  of  a  wise  and  equitable  administration.  The 
morning  after  he  had  been  solemnly  installed  in  office,  and  at 
the  moment  that  he  was  making  his  breakfast,  from  a  pro- 
digious earthen  dish,  filled  ^vith  milk  and  Indian  pudding,  he 
was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  one  Wandle 
Schoonhoven,  a  very  important  old  burgher  of  New-Amster- 
dam, who  complained  bitterly  of  one  Barent  Bleecker,  inasmuch 
as  he  fraudulently  refused  to  come  to  a  settlement  of  accounts, 
seeing  that  there  was  a  heavy  balance  in  favour  of  the  said 
Wandle.    Governor  Van  Twiller,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
i     was  a  man  of  few  words;  he  was  likewise  a  mortal  enemy  to 
multiplying  writings — or  being  disturbed  at  his  breakfast. 
Having  listened  attentively  to  the  statement  of  Wandle 
Schoonhoven,  giving  an  occasional  gnmt,  as  he  shovelled  a 
spoonful  of  Indian  pudding  into  his  mouth — either  as  a  sign 
that  he  relished  the  dish,  or  comprehended  the  story — he 
called  unto  him  his  constable,  and  pulling  out  of  his  breeches 
pocket  a  huge  jack-knife,  despatched  it  after  the  defendant  as 
I    a  summons,  accompanied  by  his  tobacco-box  as  a  warrant. 
;        This  summary  process  was  as  effectual  in  those  SMnple  days 
as  was  the  seal-ring  of  the  great  Haroun  Alraschid  among  the 
I     true  believers.    The  two  parties  being  confronted  before  him, 
,     each  produced  a  book  of  accounts  written  in  a  language  and 
character  that  would  have  puzzled  any  but  a  High  Dutch  com- 
^    mentator,  or  a  learned  decipherer  of  Egyptian  obehsks,  to 
J    imderstand.   The  sage  Wouter  took  them  one  after  the  other, 
,g    and  having  poised  them  in  his  hands,  and  attentively  counted 
y    over  the  number  of  leaves,  fell  straightway  into  a  very  great 
jjjl  doubt,  and  smoked  for  half  an  hgiir  without  saying  a  word;  at 


'I 


98 


A  niSTOllY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


length,  laying  his  finj^er  beside  liis  nose,  and  shutting  his  eyes 
for  a  moment,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  just  caught  a 
subtle  idea  by  the  tail,  he  slowly  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
puffed  forth  a  column  of  tobacco-smoke,  and  with  marvellous 
gravity  and  solenmity  pronounced— that  having  carefully 
counted  over  the  leaves  and  weighed  the  books,  it  was  found, 
that  one  was  just  as  thick  and  as  heavy  as  the  other— therefore 
it  was  the  final  opinion  of  the  court  that  the  accounts  were 
equally  balanced— therefore  Wandle  should  give  Barent  a  re- 
ceipt, and  Barent  should  give  Wandle  a  receipt— and  the  con- 
stable should  pay  the  costs. 

This  decision  being  straightway  made  known,  diffused  gene- 
ral joy  throughout  New-Amsterdam,  for  the  people  imme- 
diately perceived,  that  they  had  a  very  wise  and  equitable 
magistrate  to  ride  over  them.  But  its  happiest  effect  was, 
that  not  another  law-suit  took  place  throughout  the  whole  of 
his  administration— and  the  office  of  constable  feU  into  such 
decay,  that  there  was  not  one  of  those  losel  scouts  known  in 
the  province  for  many  years.  I  am  the  more  particular  in 
dwelling  on  this  transaction,  not  only  because  I  deem  it  one  ot 
the  most  sage  and  righteous  judgments  on  record,  and  well 
worthy  the  attention  of  modern  magistrates,  but  because  it 
was  a  miraculous  event  in  the  history  of  the  renowned 
Wouter— being  the  only  time  he  was  ever  known  to  come  to 
a  decision  in  the  whole  course  of  his  hf  e. 


CHAPTER  n. 

CONTAINING  SOME  ACCOUNT  OP  THE  GRAND  COUNCIL  OF  NEW- 
AMSTERDAM,  AS  ALSO  DIVERS  ESPECIAL  GOOD  PHILOSOPHICAL 
REASONS  WHY  AN  ALDERI^IAN  SHOULD  BE  FAT— WITH  OTHER 
PARTICULARS  TOUCHING  THE  STATE  OF  THE  PROVINCE. 

In  treatmg  of  the  early  governors  of  the  province,  I  must 
caution  my  readers  against  confounding  them,  in  point  of 
dignity  and  power,  with  those  worthy  gentlemen  who  are 
whimsically  denominated  governors  in  this  enlightened  repub- 
lic—a set  of  unhappy  victims  of  popularity,  who  are  in  fact  the 
most  dependent,  henpecked  beings  in  the  conmaunity :  doomed 
to  bear  the  secret  goadings  and  corrections  of  their  own  party, 


A  mSTOIlT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


99 


and  the  sneers  and  revilings  of  the  whole  world  beside ; — set  up, 
like  geese  at  Christinas  holydays,  to  be  pelted  and  shot  at  by 
every  whipster  and  vagabond  in  the  land.  On  the  contrary,  the 
Dutch  governors  enjoyed  that  uncontrolled  authority  vested  in 
all  commanders  of  distant  colonies  or  territories.  They  were 
in  a  manner  absolute  despots  in  their  little  domains,  lording  it, 
if  so  disposed,  over  both  law  and  gospel,  and  accountable  to 
none  but  the  mother  country ;  which  it  is  well  known  is  aston- 
ishingly deaf  to  all  complaints  against  its  governors,  provided 
they  discharge  the  main  duty  of  their  station — squeezing  out  a 
good  revenue.  This  hint  will  be  of  importance,  to  prevent  my 
readers  from  being  seized  with  doubt  and  incredulity,  when- 
ever, in  the  course  of  this  authentic  history,  they  encounter 
the  uncommon  circumstance  of  a  governor  acting  with  inde- 
pendence, and  in  opposition  to  the  opinions  of  the  multitude. 

To  assist  the  doubtful  Wouter  in  the  arduous  business  of 
legislation,  a  board  of  magistrates  was  appointed,  which  pre- 
sided immediately  over  the  police.  This  potent  body  consisted 
of  a  schout  or  baihff,  with  powers  between  those  of  the  present 
mayor  and  sheriff — five  burgermeesters,  who  were  equivalent  to 
aldermen,  and  five  schepens,  who  officiated  as  scrubs,  sub- 
devils,  or  bottle-holders  to  the  burgermeesters,  in  the  same 
manner  as  do  assistant  aldermen  to  their  principals  at  the 
present  day ;  it  being  theii*  duty  to  fill  the  pipes  of  the  lordly 
burgermeesters — hunt  the  markets  for  delicacies  for  corpora- 
tion dinners,  and  to  discharge  such  other  little  ofiices  of  kind- 
ness as  were  occasionally  required.  It  was,  moreover,  tacitly 
understood,  though  not  specifically  enjoined,  that  they  should 
consider  themselves  as  butts  for  the  blunt  wits  of  the  bur- 
germeesters, and  should  laugh  most  heartily  at  all  their  jokes ; 
but  this  last  was  a  duty  as  rarely  called  in  action  in  those 
days  as  it  is  at  present,  and  was  shortly  remitted,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  tragical  death  of  a  fat  little  schepen — who 
actually  died  of  suffocation,  in  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  force  a 
laugh  at  one  of  the  burgermeester  Van  Zandt's  best  jokes. 

In  return  for  these  humble  services,  they  were  permitted  to 
say  yes  and  no  at  the  council  board,  and  to  have  that  enviable 
privilege,  the  run  of  the  public  kitchen— being  graciously  per- 
mitted to  eat,  and  drink,  and  smoke,  at  aU  snug  junketings  and 
public  gormandizings,  for  which  the  ancient  magistrates  were 
equally  famous  with  their  modern  successors.  The  post  of 
Bchepen,  therefore,  like  that  of  assistant  alderman,  was  eagerly 
coveted  by  all  your  burghers  of  a  certain  description,  who  have 


100 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


a  huge  relish  for  good  feeding,  and  an  humble  ambition  to  be 
great  men  in  a  small  way— who  thirst  after  a  little  brief 
authority,  that  shall  render  them  the  terror  of  the  alms-house 
and  the  bridewell— that  shall  enable  them  to  lord  it  over  obse- 
quious poverty,  vagrant  vice,  outcast  prostitution,  and  hunger- 
driven  dishonesty— that  shall  give  to  their  beck  a  hound-like 
pack  of  catch-poles  and  bum-bailiffs— tenfold  greater  rogues 
than  the  culprits  they  hunt  down !— My  readers  wiU  excuse  this 
sudden  warmth,  which  I  confess  is  unbecoming  of  a  grave 
historian— but  I  have  a  moral  antipathy  to  catch-poles,  bum- 
bailiffs,  and  little  great  men. 

The  ancient  magistrates  of  this  city  corresponded  with  those 
of  the  present  time  no  less  in  form,  magnitude,  and  intellect, 
than  in  prerogative  and  privilege.  The  burgomasters,  like  our 
aldermen,  were  generally  chosen  by  weight  —and  not  only  the 
weight  of  the  body,  but  likewise  the  weight  of  the  head.  It  is 
a  maxim  practically  observed  in  all  honest,  plain-thinking, 
regular  cities,  that  an  alderman  should  be  fat  —and  the  wisdom 
of  this  can  be  proved  to  a  certainty.  That  the  body  is  in  some 
measure  an  image  of  the  mind,  or  rather  that  the  mind  is 
moulded  to  the  body,  hke  melted  lead  to  the  clay  in  wliich  it 
is  cast,  has  been  insisted  on  by  many  philosophers,  who  have 
made  human  nature  their  pecuhar  study— for  as  a  learned 
gentleman  of  our  own  city  observes,  "there  is  a  constant  rela- 
tion between  the  moral  character  of  aU  intelligent  creatures, 
and  their  physical  constitution — between  their  habits  and  the 
structure  of  their  bodies."  Thus  we  see,  that  a  lean,  spare, 
diminutive  body,  is  generally  accompanied  by  a  petulant,  rest- 
less, meddling  mind — either  the  mmd  wears  down  the  body,  by 
its  continual  motion ;  or  else  the  body,  not  affording  the  mind 
sufficient  house-room,  keeps  it  continually  in  a  state  of  fretful- 
ness,  tossing  and  worrying  about  from  the  uneasiness  of  its 
situation.  Whereas  your  round,  sleek,  fat,  unwieldy  peri- 
phery is  ever  attended  by  a  mind  like  itself,  tranquil,  torpid, 
and  at  ease ;  and  we  may  always  observe,  that  your  well-fed, 
robustious  burghers  are  in  general  very  tenacious  of  their  ease 
and  comfort ;  being  great  enemies  to  noise,  discord,  and  distur- 
bance— and  surely  none  are  more  Hkely  to  study  the  pubhc 
tranquillity  than  those  who  are  so  careful  of  their  own.  Who 
ever  hears  of  fat  men  heading  a  riot,  or  herding  together  in 
turbulent  mobs? — no — no — it  is  your  lean,  hungiy  men,  who 
are  continually  worrying  society,  and  setting  the  whole  com- 
munity by  the  ears. 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


101 


The  -divine  Plato,  whose  doctrines  are  not  sufficiently 
attended  to  by  pliilosophers  of  the  present  age,  allows  to  every 
man  three  souls — one  innnortal  and  rational,  seated  in  the 
brain,  that  it  may  overlook  and  regulate  the  body— a  second 
consisting  of  the  surly  and  irascible  passions,  wliich,  hke 
belligerent  powers,  lie  encamped  around  the  heart — a  third 
mortal  and  sensual,  destitute  of  reason,  gross  and  brutal  in  its 
propensities,  and  enchained  in  the  belly,  that  it  may  not  dis- 
turb  the  divine  soul,  by  its  ravenous  bowlings.  Now,  accord- 
ing to  this  excellent  theory,  svhat  can  be  more  clear,  than  that 
your  fat  alderman  is  most  likely  to  have  the  most  regular  and 
well-conditioned  mind.  His  head  is  hke  a  huge,  spherical 
chamber,  containing  a  prodigious  mass  of  soft  brains,  whereon 
the  rational  soul  lies  softly  and  snugly  couched,  as  on  a  feather 
bed ;  and  the  eyes,  which  are  the  windows  of  the  bed-chamber, 
are  usually  half-closed,  that  its  slumberings  may  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  external  objects.  A  mind  thus  comfortably  lodged, 
and  protected  from  disturbance,  is  manifestly  most  likely  to 
perform  its  functions  with  regularity  and  ease.  By  dmt  of 
good  feeding,  moreover,  the  mortal  and  mahgnant  soul,  which 
is  confined  in  the  belly,  and  which,  by  its  raging  and  roaring, 
puts  the  irritable  soul  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  heart  in  an 
intolerable  i^assion,  and  thus  renders  men  crusty  and  quarrel- 
some when  hungry,  is  completely  pacified,  silenced,  and  put  to 
rest — whereupon  a  host  of  honest  good-fellow  quahties  and 
kind-hearted  affections,  which  had  lain  perdue,  slyly  peeping 
out  of  the  loop-holes  of  the  heart,  finding  this  Cerberus  asleep, 
do  pluck  up  their  spirits,  turn  out  one  and  all  in  their  holyday 
suits,  and  gambol  up  and  down  the  diaphragm — disposing 
their  possessor  to  laughter,  good-humour,  and  a  thousand 
friendly  offices  towards  his  fellow-mortals. 

As  a  board  of  magistrates,  formed  on  this  model,  think  but 
very  httle,  they  are  the  less  hkely  to  differ  and  wrangle  about 
favourite  opinions — and  as  they  generally  transact  business 
upon  a  hearty  dinner,  they  are  naturally  disposed  to  be  lenient 
and  indulgent  in  the  administration  of  their  duties.  Charle- 
magne was  conscious  of  this,  and,  therefore,  (a  pitiful  measure, 
for  which  I  can  never  forgive  him,)  ordered  in  his  cartularies, 
that  no  judge  should  hold  a  court  of  justice,  except  in  the 
morning,  on  an  empty  stomach— a  rule,  which,  I  warrant, 
bore  hard  upon  all  the  poor  culprits  in  his  kingdom.  The 
more  enhghtened  and  humane  generation  of  the  present  day 
have  taken  an  opposite  course,  and  have  so  managed,  that  the 


102 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEWTORR. 


aldermen  are  the  best-fed  men  in  the  community;  feasting 
lustily  on  the  fat  things  of  the  land,  and  gorging  so  heartily 
oysters  and  turtles,  that  in  process  of  time  they  acquire  the 
activity  of  the  one,  and  the  form,  the  waddle,  and  the  green 
fat  of  the  other.  The  consequence  is,  as  I  have  just  said,  these 
luxurious  feastings  do  produce  such  a  dulcet  equanimity  and 
repose  of  the  soul,  rational  and  irrational,  that  their  transact 
lions  are  proverbial  for  unvarying  monotony — and  the  pro- 
found laws  which  they  enact  in  their  dozing  moments,  amid 
the  labours  of  digestion,  are  quietly  suffered  to  remain  as  dead- 
letters,  and  never  enforced,  when  awake.  In  a  word,  your 
fair,  round-bellied  burgomaster,  hke  a  full-fed  mastiff,  dozes 
quietly  at  the  house-door,  always  at  home,  and  always  at  hand 
to  watch  over  its  safety— but  as  to  electing  a  lean,  meddhng 
candidate  to  the  office,  as  has  now  and  then  been  done,  I  would 
as  lief  put  a  grayhoimd  to  watch  the  house,  or  a  race-horse  to 
drag  an  ox-wagon. 

The  burgomasters  then,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  were 
wisely  chosen  by  weight,  and  the  schepens,  or  assistant  alder- 
men, were  appointed  to  attend  upon  them,  and  help  them  eat ; 
but  the  latter,  in  the  course  of  time,  when  they  had  been  fed 
and  fattened  into  sufficient  bulk  of  body  and  drowsiness  of 
brain,  became  very  ehgible  candidates  for  the  burgomasters' 
chairs,  having  fairly  eaten  themselves  into  office,  as  a  mouse 
eats  his  way  into  a  comfortable  lodgment  in  a  goodly,  blue- 
nosed,  skimmed-milk,  New-England  cheese. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  profound  deliberations  that  took 
place  between  the  renowned  Wouter  and  these  his  worthy 
compeers,  unless  it  be  the  sage  divans  of  some  of  our  modern 
corporations.  They  would  sit  for  houi*s  smoking  and  dozing 
over  pubhc  affairs,  without  speaking  a  word  to  interrupt  that 
perfect  stillness  so  necessary  to  deep  reflection.  Under  the 
sober  sway  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  and  these  his  worthy  coad- 
jutors, the  infant  settlement  waxed  vigorous  apace,  gradually 
emerging  from  the  swamps  and  forests,  and  exhibiting  that 
mingled  appearance  of  town  and  country,  customary  in  new 
cities,  and  wliich  at  this  day  may  be  witnessed  in  the  city  of 
Washington — that  immense  metropolis,  which  makes  so  glori- 
ous an  appearance  on  paper. 

It  was  a  pleasing  sight,  in  those  times,  to  behold  the  honest 
burgher,  like  a  patriarch  of  yore,  seated  on  the  bench  at  the 
door  of  his  whitewashed  house,  under  the  shade  of  some 
gigantic  sycamore  or  overhanging  whlow.    Here  would  he 


A  III Sr DRY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


smoke  his  pipe  of  a  sultry  afternoon,  enjoying  the  soft  south- 
ern breeze,  anfi  listening  with  silent  gratulation  to  the  cluck- 
ing of  his  hens,  the  cackling  of  his  geese,  i.nd  the  sonorous 
grunting  of  his  swine ;  that  combination  of  farm-yard  melody, 
which  may  truly  be  said  to  have  a  silver  sound,  inasmuch  as 
it  conveys  a  certain  assurance  of  profitable  marketing. 

The  modern  spectator,  who  wanders  through  the  streets  of 
this  populous  city,  can  scarcely  form  an  idea  of  the  different 
appearance  they  presented  in  the  primitive  days  of  the  Doubt- 
er. The  busy  hum  of  multitudes,  the  shouts  of  revelry,  the 
rumbling  equipages  of  fashion,  the  rattling  of  accursed  carts, 
and  all  the  spirit-grieving  sounds  of  brawling  commerce,  were 
unknown  in  the  settlement  of  New- Amsterdam.  The  grass 
grew  quietly  in  the  highways — the  bleating  sheep  and  frolic- 
some calves  sported  about  the  verdant  ridge  where  now  the 
Broadway  loungers  take  their  morning  stroll — the  cunning 
fox  or  ravenous  wolf  skulked  in  the  woods,  where  now  are  to 
be  seen  the  dens  of  Gomez  and  his  righteous  fraternity  of 
money-brokers — and  flocks  of  vociferous  geese  cackled  about 
the  fields,  where  now  the  great  Tammany  wigwam  and  the 
patriotic  tavern  of  Martling  echo  with  the  wranglings  of  the 
mob. 

In  these  good  times  did  a  true  and  enviable  equaHty  of  rank 
and  property  prevail,  equally  removed  from  the  arrogance  of 
wealth,  and  the  servility  and  heart-burnings  of  repining  pov- 
erty— and  what  in  my  mind  is  still  more  conducive  to  tran- 
quillity and  harmony  among  friends,  a  happy  equahty  of 
intellect  was  likewise  to  be  seen.  The  minds  of  the  good 
burghers  of  New- Amsterdam  seemed  all  to  have  been  cast  in 
one  mould,  and  to  be  those  honest,  blunt  minds,  which,  like 
certain  manufactures,  are  made  by  the  gross,  and  considere-l 
as  exceedingly  good  for  common  use. 

Thus  it  happens  that  your  true  dull  minds  are  generally  pre- 
ferred for  public  employ,  and  especially  promoted  to  city 
honours ;  your  keen  intellects,  hke  razors,  being  considered  too 
sharp  for  common  service.  I  know  that  it  is  common  to  rail 
at  the  unequal  distribution  of  riches,  as  the  great  source  of 
jealousies,  broils,  and  heart-breakings;  whereas,  for  my  part, 
I  verily  believe  it  is  the  sad  inequahty  of  intellect  that  pre- 
vails, that  embroils  communities  more  than  anything  elf^e, 
and  I  have  remarked  that  your  knowing  people,  who  are  so 
much  wiser  than  any  body  else,  are  eternally  keeping  society 
in  a  ferment.    Happily  for  New-Amst€rdam,  nothing  of  ^^^-'^ 


104 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


kind  was  known  within  its  walls— the  very  words  of  learning, 
education,  taste,  and  talents  were  unheard  of— a  bright  geniua 
was  an  aninial  unknown,  and  a  blue-stocking  lady  would  have 
been  regarded  with  as  much  wonder  as  a  horned  frog  or  a  fiery 
dragon.  No  man,  in  fact,  seemed  to  know  more  than  hi.s 
neighbour,  nor  any  man  to  know  more  than  an  honest  man 
ought  to  know,  who  has  nobody's  business  to  mind  but  his 
own;  the  parson  and  the  council  clerk  were  the  only  men  that 
could  read  in  the  community,  and  the  sage  Van  Twiller 
always  signed  his  name  with  a  cross. 

Thrice  happy  and  ever  to  be  envied  little  burgh !  existmg  in 
ail  the  security  of  harmless  insignificance— unnoticed  and  un- 
envied  hj  the  world,  without  ambition,  without  vain-glory, 
without  riches,  without  learning,  and  all  their  train  of  carking 
cares — and  as  of  yore,  in  the  better  days  of  man,  the  deities 
were  wont  to  visit  him  on  earth  and  bless  his  rural  habitations, 
so  we  are  told,  in  the  sylvan  days  of  New- Amsterdam,  the 
good  St.  Nicholas  would  often  make  his  appearance  m  his 
beloved  city,  of  a  holy  day  afternoon,  riding  jo]  lily  among  the 
tree-tops,  or  over  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  now  and  then  draw- 
ing forth  magnificent  presents  from  his  breeches  pockets,  and 
dropping  them  down  the  chimneys  of  his  favourites.  Wliereas 
in  these  degenerate  days  of  iron  and  brass,  he  never  shows  us 
the  light  of  his  countenance,  nor  ever  visits  us,  save  one  night 
in  the  year;  when  he  rattles  down  the  chimneys  of  the  de- 
scendants of  the  patriai'chs,  confining  liis  presents  merely  to 
the  children,  in  token  of  the  degeneracy  of  the  parents. 

Such  are  the  comfortable  and  thriving  effects  of  a  fat  gov- 
ernment. The  province  of  the  New-Netherlands,  destitute  of 
wealth,  possessed  a  sweet  tranquiUity  that  wealth  could  never 
purchase.  There  were  neither  public  commotions,  nor  private 
quarrels;  neither  parties,  nor  sects,  nor  schisms;  neither  per- 
secutions, nor  trials,  nor  punishments ;  nor  were  there  counsel- 
lors, attorneys,  catch-poles,  or  hangmen.  Every  man  attended 
to  what  Httle  business  he  was  lucky  enough  to  have,  or  neg- 
lected it  if  he  pleased,  without  asking  the  opinion  of  liis  neigh- 
bour. In  those  days,  nobody  meddled  with  concerns  above  his 
comprehension,  nor  thrust  his  nose  into  other  people's  affairs ; 
nor  neglected  to  correct  his  own  conduct,  and  reform  his  own 
character,  in  his  zeal  to  pull  to  pieces  the  characters  of  others 
—but  in  a  word,  every  respectable  citizen  eat  when  he  was  not 
hungry,  drank  when  he  was  not  thirsty,  and  went  regularly 
to  bed  when  the  sun  set,  and  the  fowls  went  to  roost,  whether 


A  HISTOllY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


105 


he  were  sleepy  or  not ;  all  which  tended  so  reijiarkably  to  the 
population  of  the  settlement,  that  I  am  told  every  dutiful  wife 
througliout  New-Amsterdam  made  a  point  of  enriching  her 
husband  tvith  at  least  one  child  a  year,  and  very  often  a  brace 
— this  superabundance  of  good  things  clearly  constituting  the 
true  luxury  of  life,  according  to  the  favourite  Dutch  maxim, 
that  "more  than  enough  constitutes  a  feast."  Every  thing, 
therefore,  went  on  exactly  as  it  should  do ;  and  in  the  usual 
words  employed  by  historians  to  express  the  welfare  of  a 
country,  "the  profoundest  tranquillity  and  repose  reigned 
throughout  the  province." 


CHAPTER  m. 

HOW  THE  TOWN  OF  NEW-AMSTERDAM  AROSE  OUT  OP  MUD,  AND 
CAME  TO  BE  MARVELLOUSLY  POLISHED  AND  POLITE— TOGETHER 
WITH  A  PICTURE  OF  THE  MANNERS  OF  OUR  GREAT-GREAT- 
GRANDFATHERS. 

Manifold  are  the  tastes  and  dispositions  of  the  enlightened 
literati,  who  turn  over  the  pages  of  history.  Some  there  be, 
whose  hearts  are  brimful  of  the  yeast  of  courage,  and  whose 
bosoms  do  work,  and  swell  and  foam,  with  untried  valour,  like 
a  barrel  of  new  cider,  or  a  train-band  captain,  fresh  from  under 
the  hands  of  his  tailor.  This  doughty  class  of  readers  can  be 
satisfied  with  nothing  but  bloody  battles  and  horrible  en- 
counters; they  must  be  contiaually  storming  forts,  sacking 
cities,  springing  mines,  marching  up  to  the  muzzles  of  cannon, 
charging  bayonet  through  every  page,  and  revelling  in  gun- 
powder and  carnage.  Others,  who  are  of  a  less  martial,  but 
equally  ardent  imagination,  and  who,  withal,  are  a  Kttle 
given  to  the  marvellous,  will  dwell  mth  wondrous  satisfac- 
tion on  descriptions  of  prodigies,  unheard-of  events,  hau^- 
breadth  escapes,  hardy  adventures,  and  all  those  astonishing 
narrations  that  just  amble  along  the  boundary  line  of  possi- 
bility. A  third  class,  who,  not  to  speak  slightly  of  them,  are 
of  a  Hghter  turn,  and  skim  over  the  records  of  past  times,  as 
they  do  over  the  edifying  pages  of  a  novel,  merely  for  relaxar 
lion  and  innocent  amusement,  do  singularly  delight  in  trear 
sons,  executions,  Sabiae  rapes,  Tarquin  outrages,  conflagra- 


106 


A  UI6T0UY  OF  J^EW-YOliK. 


tions,  murders,  and  all  the  other  catalogue  of  hideous  crimes, 
that,  like  cayenne  in  cookery,  do  give  a  pungency  and  flavoui 
to  the  dull  detail  of  history — while  a  foiu-th  class,  of  more 
philosophic  habits,  do  dihgently  pore  over  the  musty  chroni- 
cles of  time,  to  investigate  the  operations  of  the  human  kind, 
and  watch  the  gradual  changes  m  men  and  manners,  effected 
oy  the  progress  of  knowledge,  the  vicissitudes  of  events,  or  the 
influence  of  situation. 

If  the  three  first  classes  find  but  little  where^vithal  to  solace 
themselves  in  the  tranquil  reign  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  I 
entreat  them  to  exert  theii-  patience  for  a  whde,  and  bear  with 
the  tedious  picture  of  happiness,  prosperity,  and  peace,  which 
my  duty  as  a  faithful  historian  obhges  me  to  draAv;  and  I 
promise  them  tliat  as  soon  as  I  can  possibly  hght  upon  any 
thing  horrible,  uncommon,  or  impossible,  it  shall  go  hard,  but  I 
will  make  it  afford  them  entertainment.  Tliis  being  promised, 
I  turn  with  great  complacency  to  the  fom*th  class  of  my 
readers,  who  are  men,  or,  if  possible,  w^omen,  after  my  own 
heart;  grave,  philosophical,  and  investigatiug ;  fond  of  ana- 
lyzing characters,  of  taking  a  start  from  fii-st  causes,  and  so 
hunting  a  nation  dow^n,  through  all  the  mazes  of  innovation 
and  improvement.  Such  w^ill  naturally  be  anxious  to  wit- 
ness the  first  development  of  the  newly-hatched  colony,  and 
the  prunitive  maimers  and  customs  prevalent  among  its  iu- 
habitants,  during  the  halcyon  reign  of  Van  Twiller,  or  the 
Doubter. 

I  will  not  gi'ieve  their  patience,  however,  by  describing 
minutely  the  increase  and  improvement  of  New- Amsterdam. 
Their  own  imaginations  will  doubtless  present  to  them  the 
good  bm-ghers,  like  so  many  pains-taking  and  perseveriag 
beavers,  slowly  and  surely  pursuing  their  labours — they  will 
behold  the  prosperous  transformation  from  the  rude  log-hut 
to  the  stately  Dutch  mansion,  Avith  brick  front,  glazed  win- 
dows, and  tiled  roof — from  the  tangled  thicket  to  the  luxuriant 
cabbage  garden;  and  from  the  skulking  Indian  to  the  pon- 
derous burgomaster.  In  a  word,  they  wlQ  picture  to  them- 
selves the  steady,  silent,  and  undeviating  march  to  prosperity, 
incident  to  a  city  destitute  of  pride  or  ambition,  cherished  by 
a  fat  government,  and  whose  citizens  do  nothing  in  a  hurry. 

The  sage  councU,  as  has  been  mentioned  in  a  preceding 
chapter,  not  being  able  to  determine  upon  any  plan  for  the 
building  of  their  city — the  cows,  in  a  laudable  fit  of  patriotism, 
took  it  imder  their  peculiar  charge,  and  as  they  went  to  and 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


107 


from  pasture,  established  paths  through  the  bushes,  on  each 
side  of  which  the  good  folks  built  their  houses ;  which  is  one 
cause  of  the  rambhng  and  picturesque  turns  and  labyrinths, 
which  distinguish  certain  streets  of  New- York  at  this  very 
day. 

The  houses  of  the  higher  class  were  generally  constructed  of 
wood,  excepting  the  gable  end,  which  was  of  small  black  and 
yellow  Dutch  bricks,  and  always  faced  on  the  street,  as  oui 
ancestors,  Uke  their  descendants,  were  very  much  given  to 
outward  show,  and  were  noted  for  putting  the  best  leg  fore- 
most. The  house  was  always  furnished  with  abundance  of 
large  doors  and  small  ^vindows  on  every  floor ;  the  date  of  its 
erection  was  curiously  designated  by  iron  figures  on  the  front ; 
and  on  the  top  of  the  roof  was  perched  a  fierce  little  weather- 
cock, to  let  the  family  into  the  important  secret  which  way 
the  wind  blew.  These,  hke  the  weathercocks  on  the  tops  of 
our  steeples,  pointed  so  many  different  ways,  that  every  man 
could  have  a  wind  to  his  mind the  most  staunch  and  loyal 
citizens,  however,  always  went  according  to  the  weathercock 
on  the  top  of  the  governor's  house,  which  was  certainly  the 
most  correct,  as  he  had  a  trusty  servant  employed  every 
morning  to  climb  up  and  set  it  to  the  right  quarter. 

In  those  good  days  of  simphcity  and  sunshine,  a  passion  for 
cleanliness  was  the  leading  principle  in  domestic  economy,  and 
the  universal  test  of  an  able  housewife— a  character  which 
formed  the  utmost  ambition  of  our  unenhghtened  grandmoth- 
ers. The  front  door  was  never  opened  except  on  marriages, 
funerals,  new-year's  days,  the  festival  of  St.  Nicholas,  or  some 
such  great  occasion.  It  was  ornamented  with  a  gorgeous  brass 
knocker,  curiously  wrought,  sometimes  in  the  device  of  a  dog, 
and  sometimes  of  a  lion's  head,  and  was  daily  burnished  with 
such  religious  zeal,  that  it  was  ofttimes  worn  out  by  the  very 
precautions  taken  for  its  preservation.  The  whole  house  was 
constantly  in  a  state  of  inundation,  under  1»he  discipline  of 
mops  and  brooms  and  scrubbing-bmshes ;  and  the  good  house- 
wives of  those  days  were  a  kind  of  amphibious  animal,  delight- 
ing exceedingly  to  be  dabbling  in  water — insomuch  that  a 
historian  of  the  day  gravely  tells  us  that  many  of  his  towns- 
women  grew  to  have  webbed  finger: ;  like  unto  a  duck ;  and 
some  of  them,  he  had  little  doubt,  could  the  matter  be  exam- 
ined into,  would  be  found  to  have  the  tails  of  mermaids — but 
this  I  look  upon  to  be  a  mere  sport  of  fancy,  or  what  is  worsa, 
a  wilful  misrepresentation. 


108 


A  IIISTOIIT  OF  IS'EW-YORK. 


The  grand  parlour  was  the  sanctum  sanctorum,  where  the 
passion  for  cleaning  was  indulged  without  control.  In  this 
sacred  apartment  no  one  was  permitted  to  enter,  excepting  the 
mistress  and  her  confidential  maid,  who  visited  it  once  a  week, 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  it  a  thorough  cleaning,  and  putting 
tilings  to  rights— always  taking  the  precaution  of  leaving  their 
shoes  at  the  door,  and  entering  devoutly  in  their  stocldng-feet. 
After  scrubbing  the  floor,  sprmkling  it  with  fine  white  sand, 
which  was  curiously  stroked  into  angles,  and  curves,  and 
rhomboids,  with  a  broom — after  washing  the  windows,  rub- 
bing and  polishing  the  furniture,  and  putting  a  new  bimch  of 
evergreens  in  the  fire-place  -the  window-shutters  were  again 
closed  to  keep  out  the  flies,  and  the  room  carefully  locked  up 
imtil  the  revolution  of  time  brought  round  the  weekly  clean- 
ing day. 

As  to  the  family,  they  always  entered  in  at  the  gate,  and 
most  generaUy  hved  in  the  kitchen.  To  have  seen  a  numer- 
ous household  assembled  around  the  fire,  one  would  have 
imagined  that  he  was  transported  back  to  those  happy  days  of 
primeval  simphcity,  which  float  before  our  imaginations  like 
golden  visions.  The  fire-places  were  of  a  truly  patriarchal 
magnitude,  where  the  whole  family,  old  and  young,  master  and 
servant,  black  and  white,  nay,  even  the  very  cat  and  dog,  en- 
joyed a  conmiunity  of  privilege,  and  had  each  a  right  to  a 
corner.  Here  the  old  burgher  would  sit  in  perfect  silence, 
puffing  his  pipe,  looking  m  the  fii^e  with  haK-shut  eyes,  and 
thinking  of  nothing  for  hours  together ;  the  goede  vrouw  on 
the  opposite  side  would  employ  herself  dihgently  in  spinning 
yarn,  or  knitting  stockings.  The  young  folks  would  crowd 
around  the  hearth,  listening  with  breathless  attention  to  some 
old  crone  of  a  negro,  who  was  the  oracle  of  the  family,  and 
who,  perched  like  a  raven  in  a  corner  of  the  chimney,  would 
croak  forth  for  a  long  winter  afternoon  a  string  of  incredible 
8tories  about  New-England  witches— grisly  ghosts,  horses  with- 
out heads — and  hairbreadth  escapes  and  bloody  encounters 
among  the  Indians. 

In  those  happy  days  a  weU-regulated  family  always  rose 
with  the  dawn,  dined  at  eleven,  and  went  to  bed  at  sun-down. 
Dinner  was  invariably  a  private  meal,  and  the  fat  old  burgh- 
ers showed  incontestable  symptoms  of  disapprobation  and  un- 
easiness at  being  surprised  by  a  visit  from  a  neighbour  on  such 
occasions.    But  though  our  worthy  ancestors  were  thus  singu- 


A  IIISTOliY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


109 


larly  averse  to  giving  dinners,  yet  they  kept  up  the  social  bands 
of  intimacy  by  occasional  banquetings,  called  tea-parties. 

These  fashionable  parties  were  generally  confined  to  the 
higher  classes,  or  noblesse,  that  is  to  say,  such  as  kept  their 
own  cows,  and  drove  their  own  wagons.  The  company  com- 
monly assembled  at  three  o'clock,  and  went  away  about  six, 
unless  it  was  in  winter-time,  when  the  fasliionable  hours  were 
a  little  earlier,  that  the  ladies  might  get  home  before  dark. 
The  tea-table  was  crowned  with  a  huge  earthen  dish,  well 
stored  with  shoes  of  fat  pork,  fried  brown,  cut  up  into  mor- 
sels, and  swimming  in  gravy.  The  company  being  seated 
around  the  genial  board,  and  each  furnished  with  a  fork, 
evinced  their  dexterity  in  launching  at  the  fattest  pieces  in  this 
mighty  dish — in  much  the  same  manner  as  sailors  harpoon 
porpoises  at  sea,  or  our  Indians  spear  salmon  in  the  lakes. 
Sometimes  the  table  was  graced  with  immense  apple  pies,  or 
saucers  full  of  preserved  peaches  and  pears ;  but  it  was  always 
sure  to  boast  an  enormous  dish  of  baUs  of  sweetened  dough, 
fried  m  hog's  fat,  and  called  doughnuts,  or  olykoeks — a  deli- 
cious kind  of  cake,  at  present  scarce  known  in  this  city,  ex- 
cepting in  genuine  Dutch  famihes. 

The  tea  was  served  out  of  a  majestic  delft  tea-pot,  orna- 
mented with  paintings  of  fat  httle  Dutch  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses tending  pigs— with  boats  sailing  in  the  air,  and 
houses  built  in  the  clouds,  and  sundry  other  ingenious  Dutch 
fantasies.  The  beaux  distinguished  themselves  by  their  adroit- 
^  ness  in  replenishing  this  pot  from  a  huge  coppper  tea-kettle, 
which  would  have  made  the  pigmy  macaronies  of  these  degene- 
rate days  sweat  merely  to  look  at  it.  To  sweeten  the  beverage, 
a  lump  of  sugar  w^as  laid  beside  each  cup — and  the  company 
alternately  nibbled  and  sipped  with  gi-eat  decorum,  until  an 
improvement  was  introduced  by  a  shi^ewd  and  economic  old 
lady,  which  was  to  suspend  a  large  lump  directly  over  the  tea- 
table,  by  a  string  from  the  ceiling,  so  that  it  could  be  swung 
from  mouth  to  mouth — an  ingenious  expedient  which  is  still 
kept  up  by  some  families  in  Albany ;  but  which  prevails  with- 
out exception  in  Communipaw,  Bergen,  Flatbush,  and  ati  oiu* 
uncontaminated  Dutch  villages. 

At  these  primitive  tea-parties  the  utmost  propriety  and  dig- 
nity of  deportment  prevailed.  No  flu-ting  nor  coquetting — no 
gambling  of  old  ladies,  nor  hoyden  chattering  and  romping  of 
young  ones — no  self-satisfied  stmttings  of  wealthy  gentlemen, 
with  their  brains  in  their  pockets — nor  amusing  conceits,  and 


110 


A  HISTORY  OF  JS'EW-YORK. 


monkey  divertisements,  of  smart  young  gentlemen  with  na 
brains  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  the  young  ladies  seated  them- 
selves demurely  in  their  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  knit  their 
own  woollen  stockings ;  nor  ever  opened  their  hps,  excepting  to 
say,  yah  Mynheer,  or  yah  yah  Vrouw,  to  any  question  that  was 
asked  them ;  behaving,  in  all  things,  like  decent,  weU-educated 
damsels.  As  to  the  gentlemen,  each  of  them  tranquiUy  smoked 
his  pipe,  and  seemed  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  blue  and 
white  tiles  with  which  the  fire-places  were  decorated ;  wherein 
sundry  passages  of  scripture  were  piously  portrayed — Tobit 
and  his  dog  figured  to  great  advantage ;  Haman  swung  con- 
spicuously on  his  gibbet ;  and  Jonah  appeared  most  manfully 
bouncing  out  of  the  whale,  like  Harlequin  through  a  barrel 
of  fire. 

The  parties  broke  up  without  noise  and  without  confusion. 
They  were  carried  home  by  their  own  carriages,  that  is  to  say, 
by  the  vehicles  Nature  had  provided  them,  excepting  such  of 
the  Avealthy  as  could  afiiord  to  keep  a  wagon.  The  gentlemen 
gallantly  attended  their  fan-  ones  to  theii-  respective  abodes, 
and  took  leave  of  them  with  a  hearty  smack  at  the  door; 
which,  as  it  was  an  estabhshed  piece  of  etiquette,  done  in  per- 
fect simplicity  and  honesty  of  heart,  occasioned  no  scandal  at 
that  time,  nor  should  it  at  the  present — if  our  great-grand- 
fathers approved  of  the  custom,  it  would  argue  a  great  want 
of  reverence  in  their  descendants  to  say  a  word  against  it. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

CONTAINING  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  THE  GOLDEN  AGE,  AND 
WHAT  CONSTITUTED  A  FINE  LADY  AND  GENTLEMAN  IN  THE 
DAYS  OF  WALTER  THE  DOUBTER. 

In  this  dulcet  period  of  my  history,  when  the  beauteous 
island  of  Manna-hdCa  presented  a  scene,  the  very  counteipart 
of  tht)se  glowing  pictures  drawn  of  the  golden  reign  of  Saturn, 
there  was,  as  I  have  before  observed,  a  happy  ignorance,  an 
honest  simplicity,  prevalent  among  its  inhabitants,  which, 
were  I  even  able  to  depict,  would  be  but  little  understood  by 
the  degenerate  age  for  which  I  am  doomed  to  write.  Even  the 
feniale  sex,  those  arch  innovators  upon  the  tranquilhty,  the 
honesty,  and  gray-beard  customs  of  society,  seemed  for  a 


A  niSTOJlT  OF  NEW-YORK. 


Ill 


while  to  conduct  themselves  with  incredible  sobriety  and 
comeliness. 

Their  hair,  untortured  by  the  abominations  of  art,  was  scru- 
pulously pomatmned  back  from  their  foreheads  with  a  candle, 
ind  covered  with  a  little  cap  of  quilted  calico,  which  fitted 
3xactly  to  their  heads.  Their  petticoats  of  linsey-woolsey 
were  striped  with  a  variety  of  gorgeous  dyes— though  I  must 
confess  these  gallant  garments  were  rather  short,  scarce 
v-eaching  below  the  knee;  but  then  they  made  up  in  the 
number,  which  generally  equalled  that  of  the  gentlemen's 
small-clothes ;  and  what  is  still  more  praiseworthy,  they  were 
all  of  their  own  manufacture— of  which  circumstance,  as  may 
well  be  supposed,  they  were  not  a  little  vain. 

These  were  the  honest  days,  in  which  every  woman  staid  at 
home,  read  the  Bible,  and  wore  pockets — ay,  and  that  too  of  a 
goodly  size,  fashioned  with  patchwork  into  many  curious  de- 
vices, and  ostentatiously  worn  on  the  outside.  These,  in  fact, 
were  convenient  receptacles,  where  all  good  housewives  care- 
fully stowed  away  such  things  as  they  wished  to  have  at  hand ; 
by  which  means  they  often  came  to  be  incredibly  crammed — 
and  I  remember  there  was  a  story  current  when  I  w^as  a  boy, 
that  the  lady  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller  once  had  occasion  to 
empty  her  right  pocket  in  search  of  a  wooden  ladle,  and  the 
utensil  was  discovered  lying  among  some  rubbish  in  one 
corner — but  we  must  not  give  too  much  faith  to  all  these 
stories ;  the  anecdotes  of  those  remote  periods  being  very  sub- 
ject to  exaggeration. 

Besides  these  notable  pockets,  they  likewise  wore  scissors 
and  pincushions  suspended  from  their  girdles  by  red  ribands, 
or,  among  the  more  opulent  and  showy  classes,  by  brass,  and 
even  silver  chains,  indubitable  tokens  of  thrifty  housewives 
and  industrious  spinsters.  I  cannot  say  much  in  vindication 
of  the  shortness  of  the  petticoats;  it  doubtless  was  introduced 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  stockings  a  chance  to  be  seen, 
which  were  generally  of  blue  worsted,  with  magnificent  red 
clocks— or  perhaps  to  display  a  well-turned  ankle,  and  a  neat, 
though  serviceable,  foot,  set  off  by  a  high-heeled  leathern  shoe, 
with  a  large  and  splendid  silver  buckle.  Tlius  we  find  that 
the  gentle  sex  in  all  ages  have  shown  the  same  disposition  to 
infringe  a  little  upon  the  laws  of  decorum,  in  order  to  betray  a 
lurking  beauty,  or  gratify  an  innocent  love  of  finery. 

From  the  sketch  here  given,  it  will  be  seen  that  our  good 
grandmothers  differed  considerably  in  their  ideas  of  a  fine 


112 


A  JIISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


figure  from  their  scantily- dressed  descendants  of  the  present 
day.  A  fine  lady,  in  those  times,  waddled  under  more  clothes, 
even  on  a  fair  summer's  day,  than  would  have  clad  the  whole 
bevy  of  a  modern  ball-room.  Nor  were  they  the  less  admired 
by  the  gentlemen  in  consequence  thereof.  On  the  contrary, 
the  greatness  of  a  lover's  passion  seemed  to  increase  in  pro 
portion  to  the  magnitude  of  its  object — and  a  voluminous 
damsel,  arrayed  in  a  dozen  of  petticoats,  was  declared  by  a 
Low  Dutch  sonnetteer  of  the  province  to  be  radiant  as  a  sun- 
flower, and  luxuriant  as  a  full-blown  cabbage.  Certain  it  is, 
that  in  those  days,  the  heart  of  a  lover  could  not  contain  more 
than  one  lady  at  a  time ;  v/hereas  the  heart  of  a  modern  gal- 
lant has  often  room  enough  to  accommodate  half-a-dozen. 
The  reason  of  which  I  conclude  to  be,  that  either  the  hearts  of 
the  gentlemen  have  gi^own  larger,  or  the  persons  of  the  ladies 
smaller — tliis,  however,  is  a  question  for  physiologists  to  deter- 
mine. 

But  there  was  a  secret  charm  in  these  petticoats,  which  no 
doubt  entered  into  the  consideration  of  the  prudent  gallants. 
The  wardrobe  of  a  lady  was  in  those  days  her  only  fortune ; 
and  she  who  had  a  good  stock  of  petticoats  and  stockings  was 
as  absolutely  an  heiress  as  is  a  Eamtschatka  damsel  with  a 
store  of  bear-skins,  or  a  Lapland  belle  with  a  plenty  of  rein- 
deer. The  ladies,  therefore,  were  very  anxious  to  display 
these  powerful  attractions  to  the  greatest  advantage ;  and  the 
best  rooms  in  the  house,  instead  of  being  adorned  with  carica- 
tures of  dame  Nature,  in  water-colours  and  needle-work,  were 
always  hung  round  with  abundance  of  home-spun  garments, 
the  manufacture  and  the  property  of  the  females — a  piece  of 
laudable  ostentation  that  still  prevails  among  the  heiresses  of 
our  Dutch  villages. 

The  gentlemen,  in  fact,  who  figured  in  the  circles  of  the  gay 
world  in  these  o^neient  times,  corresponded,  in  most  parti- 
culars, with  the  beauteous  damsels  whose  smiles  they  were 
ambitious  to  deserve.  True  it  is,  their  merits  would  make  but 
a  very  inconsiderable  impression  upon  the  heart  of  a  modern 
fair ;  they  neither  drove  their  curricles  nor  sported  their  tan- 
dems, for  as  yet  those  gaudy  vehicles  were  not  even  dreamt  of 
— neither  did  they  distinguish  themselves  by  their  brilhancy 
at  the  table  and  their  consequent  rencontres  ^vith  watchmen, 
for  our  forefathers  were  of  too  pacific  a  disposition  to  need 
those  guardians  of  the  night,  every  soul  throughout  the  town 
being  sound  asleep  before  nine  o'clock.    Neither  did  they 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


118 


establish  their  claims  to  gentility  at  the  expense  of  their 
tailors — for  as  yet  those  offenders  against  the  pockets  of 
society  and  the  tranquillity  of  all  aspiring  young  gentlemen 
were  unknown  in  New- Amsterdam ;  every  good  housewife 
made  the  clothes  of  her  husband  and  family,  and  even  the 
goede  vrouw  of  Van  Twiller  himself  thought  it  no  disparage- 
ment to  cut  out  her  husband's  linsey-woolsey  gaUigaskins. 

Not  but  what  there  were  some  two  or  three  youngster^ 
who  manifested  the  first  dawnings  of  what  is  called  fire  anci 
spirit— who  held  all  labour  in  contempt;  skulked  about  docks 
and  market  places ;  loitered  in  the  sunshine ;  squandered  what 
little  money  they  could  procure  at  hustle-cap  and  chuck-far- 
thing ;  swore,  boxed,  fought  cocks,  and  raced  their  neighbours* 
horses— in  short,  who  promised  to  be  the  wonder,  the  talk,  and 
abomination  of  the  town,  had  not  their  stylish  career  been  un- 
fortunately cut  short  by  an  affair  of  honour  with  a  whipping- 
post. 

Far  other,  however,  was  the  truly  fashionable  gentleman  of 
those  days— his  dress,  which  served  for  both  morning  and 
evening,  street  and  drawing-room,  was  a  linsey-woolsey  coat, 
made,  perhaps,  by  the  fair  hands  of  the  mistress  of  his  affec- 
tions, and  gallantly  bedecked  with  abundance  of  large  brass 
buttons — half  a  score  of  breeches  heightened  the  proportions  of 
his  figure— his  shoes  were  decorated  by  enormous  copper 
buckles— a  low-crowned,  broad-brimmed  hat  overshadowed  his 
burly  visage,  and  liis  hair  dangled  down  his  back  in  a  pro- 
digious queue  of  eel-skin. 

Thus  equipped,  he  would  manfully  sally  forth  with  pipe  in 
mouth,  to  besiege  some  fair  damsel's  obdurate  heart— not  such 
a  pipe,  good  reader,  as  that  wliich  Acis  did  sweetly  tune  in 
praise  of  his  Galatea,  but  one  of  tme  delft  manufacture,  and 
furnished  with  a  charge  of  fragrant  tobacco.  With  this  would 
he  resolutely  set  himself  down  before  the  fortress,  and  rarely 
failed,  in  the  process  of  time,  to  smoke  the  fair  enemy  into  a 
surrender,  upon  honourable  terms. 

Such  was  the  happy  reign  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  celebrated 
in  many  a  long-forgotten  song  as  the  real  golden  age,  the  rest 
being  nothing  but  counterfeit  copper-washed  coin.  In  that  de- 
hghtful  period  a  sweet  and  holy  calm  reigned  over  the  whole 
province.  The  burp^omaster  smoked  his  pipe  in  peace — ^the 
substantial  solace  of  his  domestic  cares,  after  her  daily  toils 
were  done,  sat  soberly  at  the  door,  with  her  arms  crossed  over 
her  apron  of  snowy  white,  without  being  insulted  by  ribald 


114 


A  J/lSTOnr  OF  MiJW-YORR. 


street-walkers,  or  vagabond  boys — those  iinlucky  urchins,  who 
do  so  infest  our  streets,  displaying  under  the  roses  of  youth 
the  thorns  and  briars  of  iniquity.  Then  it  was  that  the  lover 
with  ten  breeches,  and  the  damsel  with  petticoats  of  half  a 
score,  indulged  in  all  the  innocent  endearments  of  virtuous 
love,  without  fear  and  without  reproach;  for  what  had  that 
virtue  to  fear  wliich  was  defended  by  a  shield  of  good  linsey- 
woolsey  s,  equal  at  least  to  the  seven  bull-hides  of  the  invinci- 
ble Ajax? 

Ah !  blissful,  and  never-to-be-forgotten  age !  when  every 
tiling  was  better  than  it  has  ever  been  since,  or  ever  will  be 
again — when  Buttermilk  Channel  was  quite  dry  at  low  water 
— when  the  shad  in  the  Hudson  were  all  salmon,  and  when  the 
moon  shone  with  a  pure  and  resplendent  whiteness,  instead  of 
that  melancholy  yellow  light  which  is  the  consequence  of  her 
sickening  at  the  abominations  she  every  night  witnesses  in 
this  degenerate  city ! 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  New-Amsterdam,  could  it 
always  have  existed  in  this  state  of  blissful  ignorance  and 
lowly  simplicity — ^but,  alas!  the  days  of  childhood  are  too 
sweet  to  last !  Cities,  like  men,  grow  out  of  them  in  time,  and 
are  doomed  alike  to  grow  into  the  bustle,  the  cares,  and 
miseries  of  the  world.  Let  no  man  congi-atulate  himseK  when 
he  beholds  the  child  of  his  bosom  or  the  city  of  his  birth  in- 
creasing in  magnitude  and  importance — let  the  history  of  his 
own  life  teach  him  the  dangers  of  the  one,  and  this  excellent 
little  history  of  Maima-hata  convince  him  of  the  calamities  of 
the  other. 


CHAPTER  V. 

m  WHICH  THE  READER  IS  BEGUILED  INTO  A  DELECTABLE  WALS 
WHICH  ENDS  VERY  DIFFERENTLY  FROM  WHAT  IT  COMMENCED. 

In  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
four,  on  a  fine  afternoon,  in  the  glowing  month  of  September, 
I  took  my  customary  walk  upon  the  Battery,  which  is  at  once 
the  pride  and  bulwark  of  this  ancient  and  impregnable  city 
of  New-York.  The  ground  on  which  I  trod  was  hallowed  by 
recollections  of  the  past,  and  as  I  slowy  wandered  through  the 
long  alley  of  poplars,  which  like  so  many  birch-brooms  stand- 


A  niSTOUY  Ob  AEW-YORK. 


115 


ing  on  end,  diffused  a  melancholy  and  lugubrious  shade,  my 
imagination  drew  a  contrast  between  the  surrounding  scenery, 
and  what  it  was  in  the  classic  days  of  our  forefathers.  Where 
the  government-house  by  name,  but  the  custom-house  by  occu- 
X)ation,  proudly  reared  its  brick  walls  and  wooden  pillars,  there 
w^liilome  stood  the  low  but  substantial,  red-tiled  mansion  of  the 
renowned  Wouter  Van  T wilier.  Around  it  the  mighty  bul- 
warks of  Fort  Amsterdam  frowned  defiance  to  every  absent 
foe;  but,  like  many  a  whiskered  warrior  and  gallant  militia 
captain,  confined  their  martial  deeds  to  frowns  alone.  The  mud 
breast- works  had  long  been  levelled  with  the  earth,  and  their 
site  converted  into  the  green  lawns  and  leafy  alleys  of  the  Bat- 
tery ;  where  the  gay  apprentice  sported  his  Sunday  coat,  and 
the  laborious  mechanic,  relieved  from  the  dirt  and  drudgery  of 
the  week,  poured  his  weekly  tale  of  love  into  the  half -averted 
ear  of  the  sentimental  chambermaid.  The  capacious  bay  still 
presented  the  same  expansive  sheet  of  water,  studded  wdth 
islands,  sprinkled  with  fishing-boats,  and  bounded  with  shores 
of  picturesque  beauty.  But  the  dark  forests  which  once 
clothed  these  shores  had  been  violated  by  the  savage  hand 
of  cultivation;  and  their  tangled  mazes,  and  impenetrable 
thickets,  had  degenerated  into  teeming  orchards  and  waving 
fields  of  grain.  Even  Governor's  Island,  once  a  smihng  gar- 
den, appertaining  to  the  sovereigns  of  the  province,  was  now 
covered  with  fortifications,  inclosing  a  tremendous  blockhouse 
— so  that  this  once  peaceful  island  resembled  a  fierce  httle  war- 
rior in  a  big  cocked  hat,  breathing  gunpowder  and  defiance  to 
the  world! 

For  some  time  did  I  indulge  in  this  pensive  train  of  thought ; 
contrasting,  in  sober  sadness,  the  present  day  with  the  hal- 
low3d  years  behind  the  mountains ;  lamenting  the  melancholy 
progress  of  improvement,  and  praising  the  zeal  with  which  our 
worthy  burghers  endeavour  to  preserve  the  wrecks  of  vener- 
able customs,  prejudices,  and  errors,  from  the  overwhehning 
tide  of  modern  innovation — when  by  degrees  my  ideas  took  a 
diflierent  turn,  and  I  insensibly  awakened  to  an  enjoyment  of 
the  beauties  around  me. 

It  was  one  of  those  rich  autumnal  days,  which  Heaven  par- 
ticularly bestows  upon  the  beauteous  island  of  Manna-hata 
and  its  vicinity — not  a  floating  cloud  obscured  the  azure  firma- 
ment—the  sun.  rolling  in  glorious  splendour  through  his  ethe- 
real course,  seemed  to  expand  his  honest  Dutch  countenance 
into  an  unusual  expression  of  benevolence,  as  he  smiled  his 


116 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


evening  salutation  upon  a  city  which  he  delights  to  visit  with 
his  most  bounteous  beams— the  very  winds  seemed  to  hold  in 
their  breaths  in  mute  attention,  lest  they  should  ruffle  the 
tranquillity  of  the  hour — and  the  waveless  bosom  of  the  bay 
presented  a  polished  mirror,  in  which  Nature  beheld  herself 
and  smiled.  The  standard  of  our  city,  reserved,  Uke  a  choice 
handkerchief,  for  days  of  gala,  hung  motionless  on  the  flag 
staff,  which  forms  the  handle  to  a  gigantic  churn ;  and  even 
the  tremulous  leaves  of  the  poplar  and  the  aspen  ceased  to 
vibrate  to  the  breath  of  heaven.  Every  thing  seemed  to  ac- 
quiesce in  the  profound  repose  of  nature.  The  formidable 
eighteen-pounders  slept  in  the  embrasures  of  the  wooden 
batteries,  seemingly  gathering  fresh  strength  to  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  their  country  on  the  next  fourth  of  July — the  soH- 
tary  drum  on  Governor's  Island  forgot  to  call  the  garrison 
to  their  shovels — the  evening  gun  had  not  yet  sounded  its 
signal  for  all  the  regular,  well-meaning  poultry  throughout 
the  country  to  go  to  roost;  and  the  fleet  of  canoes,  at  an- 
chor between  Gibbet  Island  and  Communipaw,  slumbered 
on  their  rakes,  and  suffered  the  innocent  oysters  to  he  for  a 
while  unmolested  in  the  soft  mud  of  their  native  bank !— My 
own  feelings  sympathized  with  the  contagious  tranquillity, 
and  I  should  infallibly  have  dozed  upon  one  of  those  fragments 
of  benches,  which  our  benevolent  magistrates  have  provided 
for  the  benefit  of  convalescent  loungers,  had  not  the  extraordi- 
nary inconvenience  of  the  couch  set  all  rei^ose  at  defiance. 

In  the  midst  of  this  slumber  of  the  soul,  my  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  black  speck,  peering  above  the  western  horizon, 
just  in  the  rear  of  Bergen  steeple— gradually  it  augments,  and 
overhangs  the  would-be  cities  of  Jersey,  Harsinuis,  and  Hobo- 
ken,  wliich,  like  three  jockeys,  are  starting  on  the  course  of 
existence,  and  jostling  each  other  at  the  commencement  of  the 
race.  Now  it  skirts  the  long  shore  of  ancient  Pavonia,  spread- 
ing  its  wide  shadows  from  the  high  settlements  at  Weehawk 
quite  to  the  lazaretto  and  quarantine,  erected  by  the  sagacity 
of  our  police  for  the  embarrassment  of  commerce — now  it 
climbs  tlje  serene  vault  of  heaven,  cloud  rolling  over  cloud, 
shrouding  the  orb  of  day,  darkening  the  vast  expanse,  and 
bearing  thunder  and  hail  and  tempest  in  its  bosom.  The  earth 
seems  agitated  at  the  confusion  of  the  heavens — the  late  wave- 
less  mirror  is  lashed  into  furious  Avaves,  that  roll  in  hollow 
murmurs  to  the  shore — the  oyster-boats  that  erst  sported  in 
the  placid  vicinity  of  Gibbet  Island,  now  hurry  affrighted  to 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


117 


the  land— the  poplar  writhes  and  twists  and  whistles  in  the 
blast — torrents  of  drenching  rain  and  sounding  hail  deluge  the 
Batteiy- walks— the  gates  are  thronged  by  apprentices,  servant- 
maids,  and  little  Frenchmen,  with  pocket-handkerchiefs  over 
their  hats,  scampering  from  the  storm— the  late  beauteous 
prospect  presents  one  scene  of  anarchy  and  wild  uproar,  as 
though  old  Chaos  had  resumed  his  reign,  and  was  hurling  back 
into  one  vast  turmoil  the  conflicting  elements  of  nature. 

Whether  I  fled  from  the  fury  of  the  storm,  or  remained 
boldly  at  my  post,  as  our  gallant  train-band  captains  who 
march  their  soldiers  through  the  rain  without  flinching,  are 
points  which  I  leave  to  the  conjecture  of  the  reader.  It  is  poS' 
sible  he  may  be  a  little  perplexed  also  to  know  the  reason  why 
I  introduced  this  tremendous  tempest  to  disturb  the  serenity  of 
my  Avork.  On  this  latter  point  I  will  gratuitously  instruct  his 
ignorance.  The  panorama  view  of  the  Battery  was  given 
merely  to  gratify  the  reader  with  a  correct  description  of  that 
celebrated  place,  and  the  parts  adjacent— secondly,  the  storm 
was  played  off  partly  to  give  a  httle  bustle  and  life  to  this  tran- 
quil part  of  my  work,  and  to  keep  my  drowsy  readers  from 
tailing  asleep— and  partly  to  serve  as  an  overture  to  the  tem- 
pestuous times  that  are  about  to  assail  the  pacific  p  covince  of 
Nieuw-Nederlandts — and  that  overhang  the  slumbrous  admin- 
istration of  the  renowned  Wouter  Van  T wilier.  It  is  thus  the 
experienced  playwright  puts  all  the  fiddles,  the  French  horns, 
the  kettledrums,  and  trumpets  of  his  orchestra  in  requisition, 
to  usher  in  one  of  those  horrible  and  brimstone  uproars  caUed 
melodramas— and  it  is  thus  he  discharges  his  thunder,  his 
lightning,  his  rosin,  and  saltpetre,  preparatory  to  the  rising  of 
a  ghost,  or  the  murdering  of  a  hero. — We  will  now  proceed 
with  our  history. 

Whatever  may  be  advanced  by  philosophers  to  the  contrary, 
I  am  of  opinion,  that,  as  to  nations,  the  old  maxim,  that  "hon- 
esty is  the  best  policy,"  is  a  sheer  and  ruinous  mistake.  It 
might  have  answered  Avell  enough  in  the  honest  times  when  it 
was  made,  but  in  these  degenerate  days,  if  a  nation  pretends 
to  rely  merely  upon  the  justice  of  its  dealings,  it  will  fare  some- 
thing like  an  honest  man  among  thieves,  who,  unless  he  have 
something  more  than  his  honesty  to  depend  upon,  stands  but 
a  poor  chance  of  profiting  by  his  company.  Such  at  least  was 
the  case  with  the  guileless  government  of  the  New-Nether- 
lands ;  which,  like  a  worthy  unsuspicious  old  burgher,  quietly 
settloQ  itself  down  into  the  city  of  New- Amsterdam,  as  into  a 


118 


A  lIISrOllY  OF  Nl'JW-YOllK. 


6nug  elbow-chair — and  fell  into  a  comfortable  nap— Avhile,  in 
the  meantime,  its  cunning  neighbours  stepped  in  and  picked 
its  pockets.  Thus  may  we  ascribe  the  commencement  of  all 
the  woes  of  this  great  province,  and  its  magnificent  metropohs, 
to  the  tranquil  security,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  to  the 
unfortunate  honesty,  of  its  government.  But  as  I  dislike  to 
begin  an  important  part  of  my  history  towards  the  end  of  a 
chapter;  and  as  my  readers,  hke  myself,  must  doubtless  be 
exceedingly  fatigued  with  the  long  walk  we  have  taken,  and 
the  tempest  we  have  sustained — I  hold  it  meet  we  shut  up  the 
book,  smoke  a  pipe,  and  having  thus  refreshed  our  spirits,  take 
a  fair  start  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

FAITHFULLY  DESCRIBING  THE  INGENIOUS  PEOPLE  OP  CONNECTICUT 
AND  THEREABOUTS — SHOWING,  MOREOVER,  THE  TRUE  MEANING 
OF  LIBERTY  OF  CONSCIENCE,  AND  A  CURIOUS  DEVICE  AMONG 
THESE  STURDY  BARBARIANS,  TO  KEEP  UP  A  HARMONY  OF  INTER- 
COURSE, AND  PROMOTE  POPULATION. 

That  my  readers  may  the  more  fully  comprehend  the  extent 
of  the  calamity,  at  this  very  moment  impending  over  the 
honest,  unsuspecting  province  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts,  and  its 
dubious  governor,  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  give  some 
account  of  a  horde  of  strange  barbarians,  bordering  upon  the 
eastern  frontier. 

Now  so  it  came  to  pass,  that  many  years  previous  to  the  time 
of  which  we  are  treating,  the  sage  cabinet  of  England  had 
adopted  a  certain  national  creed,  a  kind  of  public  walk  of  faith, 
or  rather  a  religious  turnpike,  in  which  every  loyal  subject 
was  directed  to  travel  to  Zion — taking  care  to  pay  the  toll- 
gatherers  by  the  way. 

Albeit,  a  certain  shrewd  race  of  men,  being  very  much  given 
to  indulge  their  own  opinions,  on  all  manner  of  subjects,  (a 
propensity  exceedingly  offensive  to  your  free  governments  of 
Europe,)  did  most  presumptuously  dare  to  think  for  them- 
selves in  matters  of  religion,  exercising  what  they  considered  a 
natural  and  unextinguishable  right — the  liberty  of  conscience. 

As,  ho^v^ever,  they  possessed  that  ingenious  habit  of  mind 


A  JIISTOUY  OF  NKW-YORK. 


119 


which  always  thinks  aloud;  which  rides  cock-a-hoop  on  the 
tongue,  and  is  forever  galloping  into  other  people's  ears,  it 
naturally  followed  that  their  hberty  of  conscience  likewise  im- 
plied liberty  of  speech,  which  being  freely  indulged,  soon  put 
the  country  in  a  hubbub,  and  aroused  the  pious  indignation  of 
the  vigilant  fathers  of  the  church. 

The  usual  methods  ware  adopted  to  reclaim  them,  that  in 
those  days  were  considered  so  efficacious  in  bringing  back 
jstray  sheep  to  the  fold ;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  coaxed,  they 
were  admonished,  they  were  menaced,  they  were  buffeted— 
line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept,  lash  upon  lash,  here  a 
little  and  there  a  great  deal,  were  exhausted  without  mercy, 
and  without  success ;  until  at  length  the  worthy  pastors  of  the 
church,  wearied  out  by  their  unparalleled  stubbornness,  were 
driven,  in  the  excess  of  their  tender  mercy,  to  adopt  the 
scripture  text,  and  hterally  "heaped  Uve  embers  on  their 
heads. " 

Nothing,  however,  could  subdue  that  invincible  spirit  of 
independence  which  has  ever  distinguished  this  singular  race 
of  people,  so  that  rather  than  submit  to  such  horrible  tyranny, 
they  one  and  all  embarked  for  the  wilderness  of  America, 
where  they  might  enjoy,  unmolested,  the  inestimable  luxury 
of  tallving.  No  sooner  did  they  land  on  this  loquacious  soil, 
than,  as  if  they  had  caught  the  disease  from  the  climate,  they 
all  lifted  up  their  voices  at  once,  and  for  the  space  of  one  whole 
year  did  keep  up  such  a  joyful  clamour,  that  we  are  told  they 
frightened  every  bird  and  beast  out  of  the  neighbourhood,  and 
so  co]npletely  diunbfounded  certain  fish,  which  abound  on 
their  coast,  that  they  have  been  called  dumb-fish  ever  since. 

From  this  simple  circumstance,  unimportant  as  it  may  seem, 
did  first  originate  that  renowned  privilege  so  loudly  boasted  of 
throughout  this  country — which  is  so  eloquently  exercised  in 
newspapers,  pamplilets,  ward  meetings,  pot-house  committees, 
aucl  congressional  deliberations— which  established  the  right  of 
calking  without  ideas  and  without  infornmtion— of  misrepre-= 
sen  ting  public  affairs— of  decrying  public  measures— of  aspers- 
ing great  characters,  and  destoying  little  ones ;  in  short,  that 
grand  palladium  of  our  country,  the  liberty  of  speech. 

TJie  simple  aborigines  of  the  land  for  a  wliile  contemplated 
these  strange  folk  in  utter  astonishment,  but  discovering  that 
they  wielded  harmless  though  noisy  weapons,  and  were  a 
lively,  ingenious,  good-humoured  race  of  men,  they  became 
Very  friendly  and  sociable,  and  gave  them  the  name  of  Fa  wo- 


120 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


Ides,  which  in  the  Mais-Tchusaeg  (or  Massachusett)  language 
signifies  silent  men— a,  waggish  appellation,  since  shortened 
iKto  the  familiar  epithet  of  Yankees,  which  they  retain  unto 
the  i^resent  day. 

True  it  is,  and  my  fidelity  as  a  historian  will  not  allow  me  to 
pass  it  over  in  silence,  that  the  zeal  of  these  good  people,  to 
maintain  their  rights  and  privileges  unimpaired,  did  for  a 
while  betray  them  into  errors,  which  it  is  easier  to  pardon  than 
defend.  Having  served  a  regular  apprenticeship  in  the  school 
of  persecution,  it  behoved  them  to  show  that  thej^  had  become 
proficients  in  the  art.  They  accordingly  employed  their  leism*e 
hours  in  banishing,  scourging,  or  hanging  divers  heretical  Pa- 
pists, Quakers,  and  Anabaptists,  for  daring  to  abuse  the  liberty 
of  conscience :  which  they  now  clearly  proved  to  imply  noth- 
ing more  than  that  every  man  should  think  as  he  pleased  in 
matters  of  religion— provided  he  thought  right ;  for  otherwise 
it  would  be  givmg  a  latitude  to  damnable  heresies.  Now  as 
they  (the  majority)  were  perfectly  con^dnced  that  they  alone 
thought  right,  it  consequently  followed,  that  whoever  thought 
different  from  them  thought  wrong — and  whoever  thought 
wrong,  and  obstinately  persisted  in  not  being  convinced  and 
converted,  was  a  flagrant  violator  of  the  inestimable  hberty  of 
conscience,  and  a  corrupt  and  infectious  member  of  the  body 
politic,  and  deserved  to  be  lopped  off  and  cast  into  the  fire. 

Now  I'll  warrant  there  are  hosts  of  my  readers  ready  at  once 
to  lilt  up  their  hands  and  eyes,  with  that  virtuous  indignation 
with  which  we  always  contemplate  the  faults  and  errors  of  our 
neighbours,  and  to  exclaim  at  these  well-meaning,  but  mistaken 
people,  for  inflicting  on  others  the  injuries  they  had  suffered 
themselves— for  indulging  the  preposterous  idea  of  convincing 
the  mind  by  tormenting  the  body,  and  estabhshing  the  doc- 
trine of  charity  and  forbearance  by  intolerant  persecution. 
But,  in  sunple  truth,  what  are  we  doing  at  this  very  day,  and 
in  this  very  enlightened  nation,  but  acting  upon  the  very  same 
principle,  in  our  political  controversies?  Have  we  not,  within 
but  a  few  years,  released  ourselves  from  the  shackles  of  a  gov- 
ernment which  cruelly  denied  us  the  privilege  of  governing  our- 
selves, and  using  in  full  latitude  that  invaluable  member,  tlie 
tongue?  and  are  we  not  at  this  very  moment  stri\'ing  our  best 
to  tyrannize  over  the  opinions,  tie  up  the  tongues,  or  ruin  th 
fortunes  of  one  another?  What  are  our  great  political  societies . 
but  mere  political  inquisitions -our  pot-house  committees,  but 
little  tribunals  of  denunciation — our  newspapers,  but  mero 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


121 


whipping-posts  and  pillories,  where  unfortunate  incli\^duals  are 
pelted  with  rotten  eggs— and  our  council  of  appointment,  but 
a  gi-and  auto  da  /e,  where  culprits  are  annually  sacrificed  for 
their  pohtical  heresies? 

Where,  then,  is  the  difference  in  principle  between  our  mea- 
sui'es  and  those  you  are  so  ready  to  condemn  among  the  people 
I  am  treating  of?  There  is  none;  the  difference  is  merely  cir- 
cumstantial.  Thus  we  denounce,  instead  of  banishing — we 
libel,  instead  of  scourging — we  turn  out  of  office,  instead  of 
hanging— and  where  they  burnt  diiio^Q\\(\.QY  mpropria persona^ 
we  either  tar  and  feather  or  burn  him  in  effgy — this  political 
pei*secution  being,  somehow  or  other,  the  grand  palladium  of 
our  hberties,  and  an  incontrovertible  proof  that  this  is  a  free 
country ! 

But  notwithstanding  the  fervent  zeal  with  which  this  holy 
war  was  prosecuted  against  the  whole  race  of  unbehevers,  w^e 
do  not  find  that  the  population  of  this  new  colony  was  in  any 
wise  hindered  thereby ;  on  tlie  conti'ary,  they  multiplied  to  a 
degree  which  would  be  incredible  to  any  man  unacquainted 
with  the  marvellous  fecundity  of  tliis  growing  country. 

This  amazing  increase  may,  indeed,  bo  partly  ascribed  to  a 
singular  custom  prevalent  among  them,  commonly  known  by 
the  name  of  bundling — a  superstitious  rite  observed  by  the 
young  people  of  both  sexes,  \vith  which  they  usually  termi- 
nated their  festivities ;  and  which  was  kept  up  with  rehgious 
strictness  by  the  more  bigoted  and  vulgar  part  of  the  commu- 
nity. This  ceremony  was  lil^cwise,  in  those  primitive  times, 
considered  as  an  indispensable  preliminary  to  matrimony; 
their  coiu"tships  commencing  where  ours  usually  finish— by 
which  means  they  acquired  that  intimate  acquaintance  with 
each  other's  good  qualities  before  marriage,  which  has  been 
pronounced  by  philosophers  the  sure  basis  of  a  happy  union. 
Thus  early  did  this  cunning  and  ingenious  people  display  q 
shrewdness  at  making  a  bargain,  which  has  ever  since  distin* 
guished  them— and  a  strict  adherence  to  the  good  old  vulgar 
maxim  about  "buying  a  pig  in  a  poke." 

To  this  sagacious  custom,  therefore,  do  I  chiefly  attribute 
the  unparalleled  increase  of  the  Yanokie  or  Yankee  tribe ;  for 
it  is  a  certain  fact,  well  authenticated  by  court  records  and 
parish  registers,  that  wherever  the  practice  of  bundling  pre- 
vailed, there  was  an  amazing  number  of  sturdy  brats  annually 
born  unto  the  State,  without  the  license  of  the  law,  or  the  bene- 
fit of  clergy.    Neither  did  the  iricgularity  of  their  birth  oper 


A  HIS  TOBY  OF  NEW-TOEK. 


ate  m  the  least  to  their  disparagement.  On  the  contrary,  they 
grev/  up  a  long-sided,  raw-boned,  hardy  race  of  whoreson 
whalers,  wood-cutters,  fishermen,  and  peddlei-s,  and  strapping 
cornf od  wenches ;  who  by  their  united  efforts  tended  marvel- 
lously towards  populating  those  notable  tracts  of  country 
called  Nantucket,  Piscataway,  and  Cape  Cod. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  THESE  SINGULAR  BARBA.RIANS  TURNED  OUT  TO  BE  NOTO- 
RIOUS SQUATTERS — HOW  THEY  BUILT  AIR  CASTLES,  AND  AT- 
TEMPTED TO  INITIATE  THE  NEDERLANDERS  IN  THE  MYSTERY 
OF  BUNDLING. 

In  the  last  chapter  I  have  given  a  faithful  and  unpreju- 
diced account  of  the  origm  of  that  singular  race  of  people,  in- 
habiting the  country  eastward  of  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts ;  but 
I  have  yet  to  mention  certain  peculiar  habits  which  rendered 
them  exceedingly  obnoxious  to  our  ever-honoured  Dutch  an- 
cestors. * 

The  most  prominent  of  these  was  a  certain  rambling  pro- 
pensity, with  which,  like  the  sons  of  Ishmaol,  they  seem  to 
have  been  gifted  by  Heaven,  and  which  continually  goar?s 
them  on,  to  shift  their  residence  from  place  to  place,  so  that 
a  Yankee  farmer  is  in  a  constant  state  of  migration ;  tarrying 
occasionally  here  and  there;  clearing  lands  for  other  people 
to  enjoy,  building  houses  for  others  to  mhabit,  and  in  a  man- 
ner may  be  considered  the  w  andering  Arab  of  America. 

His  first  thought,  on  coming  to  the  years  of  manhood,  is  to 
settle  himself  in  the  world  — Avhicli  means  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  to  begin  his  rambles.  To  this  end  he  takes  ur.to 
himself  for  a  wife  some  buxom  country  heiress,  passing  rifli 
in  red  ribands,  glass  beads,  and  mock  tortoise-shell  comb3, 
with  a  white  gown  and  morocco  shoes  for  Simday,  and  deeply 
skilled  in  the  mystery  of  making  apple  sweetmeats,  long 
sauce,  and  pumpkin  pie. 

Having  thus  provided  himself,  like  a  peddler,  with  a  heavy 
knapsack,  wherewith  to  regale  his  shoulders  through  the  jour 
ney  of  life,  he  literally  nets  out  on  the  peregrination.  His 
whole  family,  housc;hold  furniture,  and  farming  utensils,  are 


A  ElJSTORY  OF  NEW-l  OItK. 


128 


hoisted  into  a  covered  cart ;  his  own  and  his  wife's  wardrobe 
packed  up  in  a  firkin — which  done,  he  shoulders  his  axe,  takes 
staff  in  hand,  wliistles  "  Yankee  Doodle, "  and  trudges  off  to  the 
woods,  as  confident  of  the  protection  of  Providence,  and  rely- 
ing as  cheerfully  upon  his  own  resources,  as  did  ever  a  patri< 
£iich  of  yore,  when  he  journeyed  into  a  strange  country  of  the 
Gentiles.  Having  buried  himself  in  the  wilderness,  he  builds 
himself  a  log  hut,  clears  away  a  corn-field  and  potato-patch, 
and,  Providence  smihng  upon  his  labours,  is  soon  surrounded 
by  a  snug  farm  and  some  half  a  score  of  flaxen-headed  ur^ 
chins,  who,  by  their  size,  seem  to  have  sprung  all  at  once  out 
of  the  earth,  like  a  crop  of  toad-stoois. 

But  it  is  not  the  nature  of  this  most  indefatigable  of  specu- 
lators to  rest  contented  with  any  state  of  sublunary  enjoy- 
ment— improvement  is  his  darhng  passion,  and  having  thus 
improved  his  lands,  the  next  care  is  to  provide  a  mansion 
worthy  the  residence  of  a  landholder.  A  huge  palace  of  pine 
boards  immediately  springs  up  in  the  midst  of  the  wilder- 
ness, large  enough  for  a  parish  church,  and  furnished  with 
windows  of  all  dimensions,  but  so  rickety  and  flimsy  withal, 
that  every  blast  gives  it  a  fit  of  the  ague. 

By  the  time  the  outside  of  this  mighty  air  castle  is  completed, 
either  the  funds  or  the  zeal  of  our  adventurer  are  exhausted,  so 
that  he  barely  manages  to  half  finish  one  room  within,  where 
the  whole  family  burrow  together — while  the  rest  of  the  house 
is  devoted  to  the  curing  of  pumpkins,  or  storing  of  carrots  and 
potatoes,  and  is  decorated  with  fanciful  festoons  of  dried  apples 
and  peaches.  The  outside  remaining  unpainted,  grows  venera- 
bly black  with  time ;  the  family  wardrobe  is  laid  under  contri- 
bution for  old  hats,  petticoats,  and  breeches,  to  stuff  into  the 
broken  windows,  while  the  four  winds  of  heaven  keep  up  a 
whistling  and  howling  about  this  aerial  palace,  and  play  as) 
many  unruly  gambols,  as  they  did  of  yore  in  the  cave  of  old 
/3ilolus. 

The  humble  log  hut,  which  whilome  nestled  this  improving 
family  snugly  witliin  its  narrow  but  comfortable  walls,  stands 
hard  by,  in  ignominious  contrast,  degraded  into  a  cow-house 
or  pig-sty ;  and  the  whole  scene  reminds  one  forcibly  of  a  fable, 
which  I  am  surprised  has  never  been  recorded,  of  an  aspiring 
snail,  who  abandoned  his  humble  habitation,  Avliich  he  had 
long  filled  with  great  respectability,  to  crawl  into  the  empty 
shell  of  a  lobster— where  he  would  no  doubt  have  resided 
V'ith  great  style  and  splendour,  the  envy  and  hate  of  all  the 


124 


A  niSTOUY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


pains-taking  snails  in  his  neighbourhood,  had  he  not  acciden- 
tally perished  with  cold,  in  one  corner  of  his  stux)endous  man 
sion. 

Being  thus  completely  settled,  and,  to  use  his  own  words, 
"to  rights,"  one  would  imagine  that  he  would  begin  to  enjoy 
the  comforts  of  his  situation,  to  read  newspapers,  talk  politics, 
neglect  his  own  business,  and  attend  to  the  affairs  of  the  na 
tion,  like  a  useful  and  patriotic  citizen ;  but  now  it  is  that  his 
wayward  disposition  begins  again  to  operate.  He  soon  grows 
tired  of  a  spot  where  there  is  no  longer  any  room  for  improve- 
ment— sells  his  farm,  air  castle,  petticoat  windows  and  all,  re- 
loads his  cart,  shoulders  his  axe,  puts  himself  at  the  head  of 
his  family,  and  wanders  away  in  search  of  new  lands — again 
to  fell  trees  —again  to  clear  corn-fields — again  to  build  a  sliin- 
gle  palace,  and  again  to  sell  off  and  wander. 

Such  were  the  people  of  Connecticut,  who  bordered  upon  the 
eastern  frontier  of  Nieuw  Nederiandts ;  and  my  readers  may 
easily  imagine  what  obnoxious  neighbours  this  light-hearted 
but  restless  tribe  must  have  been  to  our  tranquil  progenitors. 
If  they  cannot,  I  would  ask  them,  if  they  have  ever  known  one 
of  our  regular,  well-organized  Dutch  famihes,  whom  it  hath 
pleased  Heaven  to  afiiict  with  the  neighbourhood  of  a  French 
boarding-house?  The  honest  old  burgher  cannot  take  his  after- 
noon's pipe  on  the  bench  before  his  door,  but  he  is  persecuted 
with  the  scraping  of  fiddles,  the  chattering  of  women,  and  the 
squalling  of  children— he  cannot  sleep  at  night  for  the  horrible 
melodies  of  some  amateur,  -Who  chooses  to  serenade  the  moon, 
and  display  his  terrible  proficiency  in  execution,  on  the  clario- 
net, the  haut-boy,  or  some  other  soft  toned  instrument— nor 
can  he  leave  the  street-door  open,  but  his  house  is  defiled  by 
the  unsavoury  visits  of  a  troop  of  pug  dogs,  who  even  some- 
times carry  their  loathsome  ravages  into  the  sanctum  sanc- 
torum, the  parlour ! 

If  my  readers  have  ever  witnessed  the  sufferings  of  such 
a  farmly,  so  situated,  they  may  form  some  idea  how  oiir 
worthy  ancestors  were  distressed  b}"  their  mercurial  neigh- 
bours of  Connecticut. 

Gangs  of  these  marauders,  we  are  told,  penetrated  into  the 
New  I'^etherland  settlements,  and  threw  whole  villages  into 
consternation  by  their  unparalleled  volubility,  and  their  in- 
tolerable inquisitiveness— two  evil  habits  hitherto  unknown 
in  those  parts,  or  only  known  to  be  abhorred ;  for  our  ances- 
tors were  noted  as  being  men  of  truly  Spartan  taciturnity, 


A  iniSTORY  OF  NEV/-YORK. 


125 


and  wlio  neither  knew  nor  cared  aught  ahout  any  hody's 
concerns  but  then*  own.  Many  enormities  Avere  committed 
on  the  highways,  where  several  unoffending  burghers  were 
brought  to  a  stand,  and  tortured  with  questions  and  guesses, 
which  outrages  occasioned  as  much  vexation  and  heart 
burning  as  docs  the  modern  right  of  search  on  the  high  seas. 

Great  jealousy  did  they  likewise  stir  up,  by  then-  intermed- 
dling and  successes  among  the  divine  sex ;  for  being  a  race  ol 
brisk,  likely,  pleasant-tongued  varlets,  they  soon  seduced  the 
light  afie(;tions  of  the  simple  damsels  from  their  ponderous 
Dutch  gallants.  Among  other  hideous  customs,  they  attempted 
to  introduce  among  them  that  of  bundling,  which  the  Dutch 
lasses  of  the  Nederlandts,  with  that  eager  passion  for  novelty 
and  foreign  fashions  natural  to  their  sex,  seemed  very  well  m- 
clined  to  follow,  but  that  their  mothers,  being  more  experienced 
in  the  world  and  better  acquainted  with  men  and  things, 
strenuously  discountenanced  all  such  outlandish  innovations. 

But  what  chiefly  operated  to  embroil  our  ancestors  with 
these  strange  folk,  w^as  an  unwarrantable  liberty  which  they 
occasionally  took  of  entering  in  hordes  into  the  territories  of 
the  New-Netherlands,  and  settling  themselves  dow^n,  without 
leave  or  license,  to  improve  the  land,  in  the  manner  I  have  be- 
fore noticed.  This  unceremonious  mode  of  taking  possession  of 
ne^v  land  was  technically  tei*med  squatting,  and  hence  is 
derived  the  appellation  of  squatters ;  a  name  odious  in  the  ears 
of  all  great  landholders,  and  which  is  given  to  those  enterprising 
worthies  who  seize  upon  land  first,  and  take  their  chance  to 
make  good  their  title  to  it  afterwards. 

All  these  grievances,  and  many  others  which  were  constantly 
accumulating,  tended  to  form  that  dark  and  portentous  cloud, 
wliich,  as  I  observed  in  a  former  chapter,  was  slowly  gathering 
over  the  tranquil  province  of  New-Netherlands.  The  pacific 
cabinet  of  Van  Twiller,  however,  as  ^y^Jil  be  perceived  in  the 
sequel,  bore  them  all  with  a  magnanimity  that  redounds  to 
their  immortal  credit — ^becoming  by  passive  endurance  inured 
to  this  increasing  mass  of  wrongs ;  hke  that  mighty  man  of 
old,  who  by  dint  of  carrying  about  a  calf  from  the  time  it  was 
bora,  continued  to  carry  it  without  difficulty  when  it  had  grown 
to  be  an  ox. 


126 


A  HISTORY  OF  JSEW-TOliK. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  THE  FORT  GOED  HOOP  WAS  FEARFULLY  BELEAGUERED- 
HOW  THE  RENOWNED  WOUTER  FELL  INTO  A  PROFOUND  DOUBT, 
AND  HOW  HE  FINALLY  EVAPORATED.  , 

By  this  time  my  readers  must  fully  perceive  what  an  arduous 
task  I  have  undertaken — collecting  and  collating,  with  painful 
minuteness,  the  chronicles  of  past  times,  whose  events  almost 
defy  the  powers  of  research— exploring  a  little  kind  of  Hercula- 
neum  of  history,  wliich  had  lain  nearly  for  ages  buried  under 
the  rubbish  of  years,  and  almost  totally  forgotten — raking  up 
the  hmbs  and  fragments  of  disjointed  facts,  and  endeavouring 
to  put  them  scrupulously  together,  so  as  to  restore  them  to 
their  original  form  and  connexion— now  lugging  forth  the 
character  of  an  almost  forgotten  hero,  like  a  mutilated  statue 
— now  deciphering  a  haK-defaced  inscription,  and  now  lighting 
upon  a  mouldering  manuscript,  which,  after  painful  study, 
scarce  repays  the  trouble  of  perusal. 

In  such  case,  how  much  has  the  reader  to  depend  upon  the 
honour  and  probity  of  his  author,  lest,  Mke  a  cunning  anti- 
quarian, he  either  impose  upon  him  some  spurious  fabrication 
of  his  own,  for  a  precious  relic  from  antiquity— or  else  dress  up 
the  dismembered  fragment  with  such  false  trappings,  that  it  is 
scarcely  possible  to  distinguish  the  truth  from  the  fiction  with 
which  it  is  enveloped !  This  is  a  grievance  which  I  have  more 
than  once  had  to  lament,  in  the  coui^e  of  my  wearisome  re- 
searches among  the  works  of  my  fellow-historians,  who  have 
strangely  disguised  and  distorted  the  facts  respecting  this 
country;  and  particularly  respecting  the  great  province  of 
New-Netherlands ;  as  will  be  perceived  by  any  who  wiU  take 
the  trouble  to  compare  their  romantic  effusions,  tricked  out  in 
the  meretricious  gauds  of  fable,  v.^th  this  authentic  history. 

I  have  had  more  vexations  of  this  kind  to  encounter,  in  those 
parts  of  my  history  ivhich  treat  of  the  transactions  on  the 
eastern  border,  than  in  any  other,  in  consequence  of  the  troops 
of  historians  who  have  infested  those  quarters,  and  have  shown 
the  honest  people  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts  no  mercy  m  their 
works.  Among  the  rest,  ]\Ir.  Benjamin  Trumbull  arrogantly 
declares,  that  "  the  Dutch  were  always  mere  intmdere."  Now 
to  this  I  shall  make  no  other  reply  than  to  proceed  in  the 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


127 


steady  narration  of  my  history,  which  will  contain  not  only 
proofs  that  tlie  Dutch  had  clear  title  and  possession  in  the  fair 
valleys  of  the  Connecticut,  and  that  they  Avere  wrongfully  dis- 
possessed thereof— but  likewise,  that  they  have  been  scandal- 
ously maltreated  ever  since  by  the  misrepresentations  of  the 
crafty  historians  of  New-England.  And  in  this  I  shall  be 
guided  by  a  spirit  of  truth  and  impartiahty,  and  a  regard  to 
immortal  fame— for  I  would  not  wittingly  dishonour  my  work 
by  a  single  falsehood,  misrepresentation,  or  prejudice,  though 
it  should  gain  our  forefathers  the  whole  country  of  New-Eng- 
land. 

It  was  at  an  early  period  of  the  province,  and  previous  to  the 
arrival  of  the  renowned  Wouter,  that  the  cabinet  of  Nieuw- 
Nederlandts  purchased  the  lands  about  the  Connecticut,  and 
established,  for  then- superintendence  and  protection,  a  fortified 
post  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  which  was  called  Fort  Goed 
Hoop,  and  was  situated  hard  by  the  present  fair  city  of  Hart- 
ford. The  command  of  this  important  post,  together  with  the 
rank,  title,  and  appointment  of  commissary,  were  given  ia 
charge  to  the  gallant  Jacobus  Van  Curlet,  or,  as  some  historians 
will  have  it,  Van  Curlis— a  most  doughty  soldier,  of  that 
stomachful  class  of  which  we  have  such  nmnbers  on  parade 
days— who  are  famous  for  eating  all  they  kill.  He  was  of  a 
very  soldierlike  appearance,  and  would  have  been  an  exceeding 
tall  man  had  liis  legs  been  in  proportion  to  his  body ;  but  the 
latter  being  long,  and  the  former  uncommonly  short,  it  gave 
him  the  uncouth  appearance  of  a  tall  man's  body  mounted  upon 
a  little  man's  legs.  He  made  up  for  this  turnspit  construction 
of  body  by  throwing  his  legs  to  such  an  extent  when  he 
marched,  that  you  would  have  sv/orn  he  had  on  the  identical 
seven-league  boots  of  the  far-famed  Jack  the  giant-killer ;  and  so 
astonishingly  high  did  he  tread,  on  any  great  military  occasion, 
that  his  soldiers  were  ofttimes  alarmed,  lest  he  should  trample 
himself  underfoot. 

But  notwithstanding  the  erection  of  this  fort,  and  the  ap- 
pointment of  this  ugly  little  man  of  war  as  a  conmaander,  the 
intrepid  Yankees  continued  those  daring  interlopings,  which  I 
have  hinted  at  in  my  last  chapter ;  and  taking  advantage  of 
the  character  which  the  cabinet  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller  soon 
acquired,  for  profound  and  phlegmatic  tranquillity— did  auda- 
ciously invade  the  territories  of  the  NieuAv-Nederlandts,  and 
squat  themselves  down  within  the  very  jurisdiction  of  Fort 
Good  IIoop. 


128 


A  HIST0R7  OF  NEW-TORE. 


On  beholding  this  outrage,  the  long-bodied  Van  Curlet  pro* 
ceeded  as  became  a  prompt  and  valiant  officer.  He  imme- 
diately protested  against  these  unwarrantable  encroachments, 
in  Low  Dutch,  by  way  of  inspiring  more  terror,  and  forthwith 
despatched  a  copy  of  the  protest  to  the  governor  at  New- Amster- 
dam, together  with  a  long  and  bitter  account  of  the  aggressions 
of  the  enemy.  This  done,  he  ordered  men,  one  and  all,  to  be  of 
good  cheer— shut  the  gate  of  the  fort,  smoked  three  pipes,  went 
to  bed,  and  awaited  the  result  with  a  resolute  and  intrepid 
tranquillity  that  greatly  animated  liis  adherents,  and  no  doubt 
struck  sore  dismay  and  affright  into  the  hearts  of  the  enemy. 

Now  it  came  to  pass,  that  about  this  time  the  renowned 
Wouter  Van  Twiller,  full  of  years  and  honours,  and  council 
dinners,  had  reached  that  period  of  life  and  faculty  which, 
according  to  the  great  Gulhver,  entitles  a  man  to  admission 
into  the  ancient  order  of  Struldbruggs.  He  employed  his  time 
in  smoking  his  Turkish  pipe,  amid  an  assembly  of  sages  equally 
enlightened  and  nearly  as  venerable  as  himself,  and  who,  for 
their  silence,  their  gravity,  their  wisdom,  and  their  cautious 
averseness  to  coming  to  any  conclusion  in  business,  are  only  to 
be  equalled  by  certain  profound  corporations  which  I  have 
knoAvn  in  my  time.  Upon  reading  the  protest  of  the  ga.llant 
Jacobus  Van  Curlet,  therefore,  his  excellency  fell  straightway 
into  one  of  the  deepest  doubts  that  ever  he  was  known  to  en- 
counter ;  his  capacious  head  gradually  drooped  on  his  chest,  he 
closed  his  eyes,  and  incHned  liis  ear  to  one  side,  as  if  listening 
with  great  attention  to  the  discussion  that  was  going  on  m  his 
belly ;  which  all  who  knew  him  declared  to  be  the  huge  court- 
house or  council  chamber  of  his  thoughts ;  forming  to  his  head 
what  the  House  of  Rex)resentatives  do  to  the  Senate.  An  in- 
articulate sound,  very  much  resembhng  a  snore,  occasionally 
escaped  him — but  the  nature  of  tliis  internal  cogitation  was 
never  known,  as  he  never  opened  his  hps  on  the  subject  to 
man,  woman,  or  cliild.  In  the  meantime,  the  protest  of  Van 
Curlet  lay  quietly  on  the  table,  where  it  served  to  light  the 
pipes  of  the  venerable  sages  assembled  in  council ;  and  in  the 
great  smoke  which  they  raised,  the  gallant  Jacobus,  his  pro- 
test, and  his  mighty  Fort  G  oed  Hoop,  were  soon  as  completely 
beclouded  and  forgotten  as  is  a  question  of  emergency  swai 
lowed  up  in  the  speeches  and  resolution  of  a  modern  session  o  f 
Congress. 

There  are  certain  emergencies  when  your  profound  legisla- 
tors  and  sago  dehberative  coimcils  are  mightily  in  the  way  of  a 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


129 


Tiation;  and  when  an  ounce  of  hare-brained  decision  is  worth  a 
pound  of  sage  doubt  and  cautious  discussion.  Such,  at  least, 
was  the  case  at  present ;  for  Avhile  the  renowned  V/ outer  Van 
Twiller  was  daiJy  batthng  with  liis  doubts,  and  his  resolution 
growing  weaker  and  weaker  in  the  contest,  the  enemy  pushed 
farther  and  farther  into  his  territories,  and  assurned  a  most 
formidable  appearance  in  the  neighbourhood  ot  Yort  Goed 
Hoop.  Here  they  founded  the  mighty  town  of  Piqaag,  or,  as 
it  has  since  been  called,  Weathersfield,  a  place  which,  if  we 
may  credit  the  assertion  of  that  worthy  historian,  John  Josse- 
lyn,  Gent.,  ''hath  been  infamous  by  reason  of  the  witches 
therein."  And  so  daring  did  these  men  of  Piquag  become,  that 
they  extended  those  plantations  of  onions,  for  which  their 
town  is  illustrious,  under  the  very  noses  of  the  garrison  of 
Foil;  Goed  Hoop— insomuch  that  the  honest  Dutchmen  could 
not  look  toward  that  quarter  ^vitliout  tears  in  their  eyes. 

This  crying  injustice  was  regarded  with  proper  indignation 
by  the  gallant  Jacobus  Van  Ourlet.  He  absolutely  trembled 
wit]i  the  amazing  violence  of  liis  choler,  and  tlie  exacerbations 
of  liis  valour ;  which  seemed  to  be  the  more  turbulent  in  their 
workings,  from  the  length  of  the  body  in  which  they  were 
agitated.  He  forthwith  proceeded  to  strengthen  his  redoubts, 
heighten  his  breastworks,  deepen  his  fosse,  and  fortify  his 
position  with  a  double  row  of  abattis :  after  which  valiant  pre- 
cautions, he  despatched  a  fresh  courier  with  tremendous 
accounts  of  his  perilous  situation. 

The  courier  chosen  to  bear  these  alarming  despatches  was  a 
fat,  oily  little  man,  as  being  least  liable  to  be  worn  out,  or  to 
lose  leather  on  the  journey ;  and  to  insure  his  speed,  he  was 
mounted  on  the  fleetest  wagon-horse  in  the  garrison,  remark- 
able for  his  length  of  hmb,  largeness  of  bone,  and  hardness  of 
trot ;  and  so  tall,  that  the  httle  messenger  was  obliged  to  climb 
on  his  back  by  means  of  his  tail  and  crupper.  Such  extraordi- 
nary speed  did  he  make,  that  he  arrived  at  Fort  Amsterdam 
in  little  less  than  a  month,  though  the  distance  was  full  two 
'hundred  pipes,  or  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles. 

Tlie  extraordinary  appearance  of  this  portentous  stranger 
would  have  thrown  the  whole  town  of  New- Amsterdam  into  a 
quandary,  had  the  good  people  troubled  themselves  about  any 
thing  more  than  their  domestic  affairs.  With  an  appearance 
of  great  hurry  and  business,  and  smoking  a  short  travelling 
pipe,  he  proceeded  on  a  long  swing  trot  through  the  muddy 
lanes  of  the  metropohs,  demohshing  whole  batches  of  dii-t  pies, 


130 


A  ITISTORT  OF  NEW- YORE. 


which  the  little  Dutch  children  were  making  in  the  road ;  and 
for  which  kind  of  pastry  the  children  of  this  city  have  ever 
been  famous.  On  ariiving  at  the  governor's  house,  he  climbed 
down  from  his  steed  in  great  trepidation;  roused  the  gray- 
headed  door-keeper,  old  Skaats,  w^ho,  like  his  lineal  descendant 
and  faithful  representative,  the  venerable  crier  of  our  court, 
was  nodding  at  his  post— rattled  at  the  door  of  the  coimcil 
chamber,  and  startled  the  members  as  they  were  dozing  over  a 
plan  for  establishmg  a  pubhc  market. 

At  that  very  moment  a  gentle  grunt,  or  rather  a  deep-drawn 
snore,  was  heard  from  the  chair  of  the  governor ;  a  wlhil  of 
smoke  was  at  the  same  instant  observed  to  escape  from  his 
lips,  and  a  hght  cloud  to  ascend  from  the  bowl  of  his  pipe. 
The  council  of  course  supposed  lum  engaged  in  deep  sleep  for 
the  good  of  the  community,  and,  according  to  custom  in  all 
such  cases  estabhshed,  every  man  bawled  out  silence,  in  order 
to  maintain  tranquillity;  when,  of  a  sudden,  the  door  flew 
open,  and  the  little  courier  straddled  mto  the  apartment,  cased 
to  the  middle  in  a  pair  of  Hessian  boots,  which  he  had  got  mto 
for  the  sake  of  expedition.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  forth  the 
ominous  despatches,  and  with  his  left  he  grasped  firmly  the 
waistband  of  his  galhgaskins,  which  had  unfortunately  given 
way,  in  the  exertion  of  descending  from  his  horse.  He 
stumped  resolutely  up  to  the  governor,  and  with  more  hurry 
than  perspicuity,  dehvered  his  message.  But  fortunately  his 
ill  tidings  came  too  late  to  ruffle  the  tranquilUty  of  this  most 
tranquil  of  rulers.  His  venerable  excellency  had  just  breathed 
and  smoked  his  last — ^his  lungs  and  his  pipe  ha^dng  been  ex- 
hausted together,  and  his  peaceful  soul  having  escaped  in  the 
last  whiff  that  curled  from  his  tobacco-pipe.  In  a  word,  the 
renowned  Walter  the  Doubter,  who  had  so  often  slumbered 
with  his  contemporaries,  now  slept  with  his  fathers,  and  Wil- 
helmus  Kieft  governed  in  his  stead. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


131 


BOOK  IV. 

CONTAINING    THE    CHRONICLES    OF    THE    REIGN  OF 
WILLIAM  THE  TESTY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SHOWING  THE  NATURE  OF  HISTORY  IN  GENERAL;  CONTAINING 
FURTHERMORE  THE  UNIVERSAL  ACQUIREMENTS  OF  WILLIAM 
THE  TESTY,  AND  HOW  A  Mi^  MAY  LEARN  SO  MUCH  AS  TO 
RENDER  HIMSELF  GOOD  FOR  NOTHING. 

When  the  lofty  Thucydides  is  about  to  enter  upon  his  de- 
scription of  the  plague  that  desolated  Athens,  one  of  his  mod- 
em commentators  assures  the  reader,  that  the  history  is  now 
going  to  be  exceeding  solemn,  serious,  and  i)athetic ;  and  liints, 
^Tith  that  air  of  chuckling  gratulation  with  which  a  good  dame 
draws  forth  a  choice  morsel  from  a  cupboard  to  regale  a 
favourite,  that  this  plague  will  give  his  history  a  most  agree- 
able variety. 

In  hke  manner  did  my  heart  leap  within  me,  when  I  came 
to  the  dolorous  dilemma  of  Fort  Good  Hope,  wliich  I  at  once 
perceived  to  be  the  forerunner  of  a  series  of  great  events  and 
entertaining  disasters.  Such  are  the  true  subjects  for  the  his- 
toric pen.  For  what  is  history,  in  fact,  but  a  kind  of  Newgate 
calendar,  a  register  of  the  crimes  and  miseries  that  man  has 
inHicted  on  his  fellow-man?  It  is  a  huge  libel  on  human  na- 
jturo,  to  which  we  industriously  add  page  after  page,  volume 
after  volume,  as  if  we  were  building  up  a  monument  to  the 
lionour,  rather  than  the  infamy  of  our  species.  If  wo  tiu*n 
over  the  pages  of  these  chronicles  that  man  has  written  of  him- 
self, what  are  the  characters  dignified  by  the  appellation  of 
great,  and  held  up  to  the  admiration  of  posterity?  Tyrants, 
robbers,  conquerors,  renowned  only  for  the  magnitude  of  their 
misdeeds,  and  the  stupendous  wongs  and  miseries  they  have 
inflicted  on  mankind — warriors,  who  have  hired  themselves  to 


A  HIS  TOBY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


the  trade  of  blood,  not  from  motives  of  virtuous  patriotism,  or 
to  protect  the  injured  and  defenceless,  but  merely  to  gain  the 
vaunted  glory  of  being  adroit  and  successful  in  massacring 
their  fellow  beings  !  What  are  the  great  events  that  consti- 
tute a  glorious  era? — The  fall  of  empires — the  desolation  of 
happj^  countries — splendid  cities  smoking  in  their  ruins — the 
proudest  works  of  art  tumbled  in  the  dust — the  shrieks  and 
groans  of  whole  nations  ascending  unto  heaven  ! 

It  is  thus  that  historians  may  be  said  to  thrive  on  the  mise- 
ries of  mankind,  like  birds  of  prey  that  hover  over  the  field 
of  battle,  to  fatten  on  the  mighty  dead.  It  was  observed  by  a' 
great  projector  of  inland  lock-navigation  that  rivers,  lakes, 
and  oceans  were  only  formed  to  feed  canals.  In  like  manner 
I  am  tempted  to  beheve  that  plots,  conspiracies,  wars,  victo- 
ries, and  massacres  are  ordained  by  Providence  only  as  food 
for  the  historian. 

It  is  a  source  of  great  delight  to  the  philosopher  in  studying 
the  wonderful  economy  of  nature,  to  trace  the  mutual  depen- 
dencies of  things,  how  they  are  created  reciprocally  for  each 
other,  and  how  the  most  noxious  and  apparently  unnecessary 
animal  has  its  uses.  Thus  those  swarms  of  flies,  w^hich  are  so 
often  execrated  as  useless  vermin,  are  created  for  the  suste- 
nance of  spiders — and  spiders,  on  the  other  hand,  are  evidently 
made  to  devour  flies.  So  those  heroes  who  have  been  such 
scourges  to  the  world  were  bounteously  pro\ided  as  themes  for 
the  poet  and  the  historian,  while  the  poet  and  the  historian 
were  destined  to  record  the  achievements  of  heroes  ! 

These,  and  many  similar  reflections,  naturally  arose  in  my 
mind  as  I  took  up  my  pen  to  commence  the  reign  of  William 
Kieft  :  for  now  the  stream  of  our  history,  which  hitherto  has 
rolled  in  a  tranquil  current,  is  about  to  depart  forever  from  its 
peaceful  haunts  and  brawl  through  many  a  turbulent  and 
rugged  scene.  Like  some  sleek  ox  w^hich,  having  fed  and  fat- 
tened in  a  rich  clover-field,  Hes  sunk  in  luxurious  repose,  and 
will  bear  repeated  taunts  and  blows  before  it  heaves  its  un- 
wieldy limbs  and  clumsily  arouses  from  its  slumbers  ;  so  the 
province  of  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts,  having  long  thrived  and 
grown  corpulent,  under  the  prosperous  reign  of  the  Doubter, 
was  reluctantly  awakened  to  a  melancholy  conviction,  that, 
by  patient  sufferance,  its  grievances  had  become  so  numerous 
and  aggravating  that  it  w^as  preferable  to  repel  tlian  endure 
them.  The  reader  will  now  witness  the  manner  in  which  a 
peaceful  community  advances  towards  a  state  of  war ;  which  it 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORE. 


133 


is  too  apt  to  approach,  as  a  horse  does  a  drum,  with  much 
prancing  and  parade,  but  with  httle  progress— and  too  often 
with  the  wrong  end  foremost. 

WiLiiELMUS  KiSFT,  who,  in  1634,  ascended  the  gubernatorial 
chair,  (to  borrow  a  favourite,  though  chunsy  appellation  of 
modern  phraseologists,)  was  in  form  feature,  and  character, 
the  very  reverse  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  his  renowned  pre- 
decessor. He  was  of  very  respectable  descent,  his  father 
being  Inspector  of  Windmills  in  the  ancient  town  of  Saardam ; 
and  our  hero,  we  are  told,  made  very  curious  investigations 
into  the  nature  and  operations  of  those  machines  when  a  boy, 
which  is  one  reason  why  he  afterwards  came  to  be  so  ingeni- 
ous a  governor.  His  name,  according  to  the  most  ingenious 
etymologists,  was  a  corruption  of  Kyver,  that  i?  to  say,  wrang- 
ler or  scolder,  and  expressed  the  hereditary  disposition  of  his 
fami\  which  for  nearly  two  centuries  had  kept  the  windy 
town  of  Saardam  in  hot  water,  and  produced  more  tartars  and 
brimstones  than  any  ten  families  in  the  place — and  so  truly 
did  Wilhelmus  Kieft  inherit  this  family  endowment,  that  he 
had  scarcely  been  a  year  in  the  discharge  of  his  government, 
before  he  was  universally  known  by  the  appellation  of  Wil- 
liam THE  Testy. 

He  was  a  brisk,  waspish,  httle  old  gentleman,  who  had  dried 
and  ^vithered  away,  partly  through  the  natural  process  of 
years,  and  partly  from  being  parched  and  burnt  up  by  his 
fiery  soul;  which  blazed  like  a  vehement  rushlight  in  his 
bosom,  constantly  inciting  him  to  most  valorous  broils,  aiter- 
cations,  and  misadventures.  I  have  heard  it  observed  by  a 
profound  and  philosophical  judge  of  human  nature,  that  if  a 
woman  waxes  fat  as  she  grows  old,  the  tenure  of  her  life  is 
very  precarious,  but  if  haply  she  withers,  she  lives  for  ever- 
such  likemse  was  the  case  with  William  the  Testy,  who  grew 
touglier  in  proportion  as  he  dried.  He  was  some  such  a  httle 
Dutchman  as  we  may  now  and  then  see  stumping  briskly 
about  the  streets  of  our  city,  in  a  broad-skirted  coat,  with  huge 
buttons,  and  old-fashioned  cocked-hat  stuck  on  the  back  of 
liis  head,  and  a  cane  as  high  as  his  chin.  His  visage  was 
broad,  and  his  features  sharp,  his  nose  turned  up  with  the 
most  petulant  curl ;  his  cheeks  were  scorched  into  a  dusky  red 
—doubtless  in  consequence  of  the  neighbourhood  of  two  fierce 
little  gray  eyes,  through  which  his  torrid  soul  beamed  with 
tropical  fervour.  The  corners  of  his  moutli  were  curiously 
modelled  into  a  kind  of  fretwork,  not  a  httle  resembling  the 


134 


A  EIJSTOBT  OF  NEW-YOEK. 


wrinkled  proboscis  of  an  irritable  pug  dog — in  a  word,  be  was 
one  of  the  most  positive,  restless,  ugly  little  men  that  ever  put 
himseK  in  a  passion  about  nothing. 

Such  were  the  personal  endowments  of  William  the  Testy ; 
but  it  was  the  sterHng  riches  of  his  mind  that  raised  him  to 
dignity  and  power.  In  his  youth  he  had  passed  with  great 
credit  through  a  celebrated  academy  at  the  Hague,  noted  for 
producing  finished  scholars  with  a  despatch  unequalled,  ex- 
cept by  certain  of  our  American  colleges.  Here  he  skirmished 
very  smartly  on  the  frontiers  of  several  of  the  sciences,  and 
made  so  gallant  an  inroad  in  the  dead  languages,  as  to  bring 
off  captive  a  host  of  Greek  nouns  and  Latin  verbs,  together 
with  divers  pithy  saws  and  apophthegms,  all  which  he  con- 
stantly paraded  in  conversation  and  writing,  with  as  much 
vain-glory  as  would  a  triumphant  general  of  yore  display  the 
spoils  of  the  countries  he  had  ravaged.  He  had,  moreover, 
puzzled  himself  considerably  with  logic,  in  which  he  had  ad- 
vanced so  far  as  to  attain  a  very  famihar  acquaintance,  by 
name  at  least,  with  the  whole  family  of  syllogisms  and  dilem- 
mas ;  but  what  he  chiefly  valued  himself  on,  was  his  know- 
ledge of  metaphysics  in  which,  having  once  upon  a  time  ven- 
tured too  deeply,  he  came  well-nigh  being  smothered  in  a 
slough  of  unintelligible  learning— a  fearful  peril,  from  the 
effects  of  which  he  never  perfectly  recovered.  This,  I  must 
confess,  was  in  some  measure  a  misfortune;  for  he  never 
engaged  in  argument,  of  which  he  was  exceeding  fond,  but 
what,  between  logical  deductions  and  metaphysical  jargon, 
he  soon  involved  himself  and  his  subject  in  a  fog  of  contra- 
dictions and  perplexities,  and  then  would  get  into  a  mighty 
passion  with  his  adversary  for  not  being  convinced  gratis. 

It  is  in  knowledge  as  in  swimming:  he  who  ostentatiously 
sports  and  flounders  on  the  surface,  makes  more  noise  and 
splashing,  and  attracts  more  attention,  than  the  industrious 
pearl-diver,  who  phmges  in  search  of  treasures  to  the  bottom. 
The  "universal  acquirements"  of  William  Kief t  were  the  sub- 
ject of  great  marvel  and  admiration  among  his  countrymen- 
he  figured  about  at  the  Hague  with  as  much  vain-glory  as  does 
a  profound  Bonze  at  Pekin,  who  has  mastered  half  the  lettei-s 
of  the  Chinese  alphabet;  and,  in  a  word,  was  unanimously 
pronounced  an  iinivcrsal  genius!— 1  have  known  many  univer- 
sal geniuses  in  my  time,  though,  to  speak  my  mmd  freely,  i 
never  knew  one,  who,  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life,  was 
worth  his  weight  in  straw— but,  for  the  purposes  of  govern- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


135 


ment,  a  little  sound  judgment,  and  plain  common  sense,  is 
worth  all  the  sparkling  genius  that  ever  wrote  poetry,  or  in- 
vented theories. 

Strange  as  it  may  sound,  therefore,  the  universal  acquire- 
ments of  the  illustrious  Wilhelmus  were  very  much  in  his  way ; 
and  had  he  been  a  less  learned  man,  it  is  possible  he  would 
have  been  a  much  greater  governor.  He  was  exceedingly  fond 
of  trying  philosophical  and  political  experiments ;  and  having 
stulied  his  head  full  of  scraps  and  remnants  of  ancient  repub- 
hcs,  and  oligarchies,  and  aristocracies,  and  monarchies,  and 
the  laws  of  Solon,  and  Lycurgus,  and  Charondas,  and  the  im- 
aginary conmion wealth  of  Plato,  and  the  Pandects  of  Justinian, 
and  a  thousand  other  fragments  of  venerable  antiquity,  he  was 
for  ever  bent  upon  introducing  some  one  or  other  of  them  into 
use ;  so  that  between  one  contradictory  measure  and  another, 
he  entangled  the  government  of  the  little  province  of  Nieuw- 
Nederlandts  in  more  knots,  during  his  administration,  than 
half-a-dozen  successors  could  have  untied. 

No  sooner  had  this  bustling  little  man  been  bloT\Ti  by  a  whiff 
of  fortune  into  the  seat  of  government,  than  he  called  together 
his  council,  and  delivered  a  very  animated  speech  on  the  affairs 
of  the  province.  As  every  body  knows  what  a  glorious  oppor- 
tunity a  governor,  a  president,  or  even  an  emperor,  has,  of 
drubbing  his  enemies  in  his  speeches,  messages,  and  bulletins, 
where  he  has  the  talk  all  on  his  own  side,  they  may  be  sure 
the  high-mettled  William  Kieft  did  not  suffer  so  favourable  an 
occasion  to  escape  him,  of  evincing  that  gallantry  of  tongue, 
common  to  all  able  legislators.  Before  he  commenced,  it  is  re- 
corded that  he  took  out  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  gave  a 
very  sonorous  blast  of  the  nose,  according  to  the  usual  custom 
of  great  orators.  This,  in  general,  I  believe,  is  intended  as  a 
signal  trumpet,  to  call  the  attention  of  the  auditors,  but  with 
William  the  Testy  it  boasted  a  more  classic  cause,  for  he  had 
read  of  the  singular  expedient  of  that  famous  demagogue, 
Caius  Gracchus,  who,  when  he  harangued  the  Roman  popu- 
lace, modulated  his  tones  by  an  -^r^itorical  flute  or  pitchpipe 

This  preparatory  sympnony  hem^  performed,  he  ^  jnimenced 
by  expressing  an  humble  sense  of  his  own  want  of  talents— his 
utter  unworthiness  of  the  honour  conferred  upon  him,  and  his 
humiliating  incapacity  to  discharge  the  important  duties  of  his 
new  station — in  short,  he  expressed  so  contemptible  an  opinion 
of  himself,  that  many  simple  country  members  present,  igno- 
rant that  these  were  mere  words  of  course,  always  used  on 


136 


A  HTSTOin    OF  NEW  TORE. 


such  occasions,  were  very  uneasj^,  and  even  felt  wroth  that  he 
should  accept  an  office,  for  which  he  was  consciously  so  inade- 
quate. 

He  then  proceeded  in  a  manner  highly  classic  and  profoundly 
erudite,  though  nothing  at  all  to  the  purpose,  being  nothing 
more  than  a  pompous  account  of  all  the  governments  of  ancient 
Greece,  and  the  wars  of  Eome  and  Carthage,  together  with  the 
rise  and  fall  of  sundry  outlandish  empires,  about  which  the 
assembly  knew  no  more  than  their  great-grandchildren  yet 
unborn.  Thus  having,  after  the  manner  of  your  learned  ora- 
tors, convinced  the  audience  that  he  was  a  man  of  many  words 
and  great  erudition,  he  at  length  came  to  the  less  important 
part  of  his  speech,  the  situation  of  the  province — and  here  he 
soon  worked  hhnself  into  a  fearful  rage  against  the  Yankees, 
whom  he  compared  to  the  Gauls  who  desolated  Rome,  and  the 
Goths  and  Vandals  who  overran  the  fairest  plains  of  Europe— 
nor  did  he  forget  to  mention,  in  terms  of  adequate  opprobrium, 
the  insolence  with  which  they  had  encroached  upon  the  terri- 
tories of  New-Netherlands,  and  the  unparalleled  audacity  with 
which  they  had  commenced  the  town  of  New-Plymouth,  and 
planted  the  onion-patches  of  Weathersfield,  under  the  very 
walls  of  Fort  Goed  Hoop. 

Having  thus  artfully  wrought  up  his  tale  of  terror  to  a  climax, 
he  assumed  a  self-satisfied  look,  and  declared,  with  a  nod  of 
knowing  import,  that  he  had  taken  measures  to  put  a  final  stop 
to  these  encroachments— that  he  had  been  obhged  to  have  re- 
course to  a  dreadful  engine  of  warfare,  lately  invented,  av/ful 
in  its  effects,  but  authorized  by  direful  necessity.  In  a  word, 
he  was  resolved  to  conquer  the  Yankees— by  proclamation! 

For  this  purpose  he  had  prepared  a  tremendous  instrument 
of  the  kind,  ordering,  commanding,  and  enjoining  the  intruders 
aforesaid,  forthwith  to  remove,  depart,  and  withdraw  from  the 
districts,  regions,  and  territories  aforesaid,  under  pain  of  sufter- 
ing  all  the  penalties,  forfeitures,  and  punishments  in  such  case 
made  and  provided.  This  proclamation,  he  assured  them,  would 
at  once  exter]ninate  the  enemy  from  the  face  of  the  country, 
and  he  pudged  his  valom  as  a  governor,  that  within  two 
months  after  it  was  published,  not  one  stone  should  remain  on 
another  in  any  of  the  towns  Avhich  they  had  built. 

The  council  remained  for  some  time  silent  after  he  had  fin- 
ished; whether  struck  dumb  with  admiration  at  the  bril- 
hancy  of  his  project,  or  put  to  sleep  by  the  length  of  his  ha- 
rangue, the  history  of  the  times  does  not  mention.  Suffice 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


137 


it  to  say,  thoy  at  length  gave  a  universal  gnmt  of  acquiescence 
— the  proclamation  was  immediately  despatched  with  dufe  cere- 
mony, having  the  great  seal  of  the  province,  which  was  about 
the  size  of  a  buckwheat  pancake,  attached  to  it  by  a.  broad  red 
riband.  Governor  Kieft  having  thus  vented  his  indignation, 
felt  greatly  relieved  -  adjourned  the  council — i}ut  on  liis  cocked 
hat  and  corduroy  small-clothes,  and  mounting  a  tall,  raw-boned 
charger,  trotted  out  to  his  country-seat,  which  was  situated  in 
a  SAveet,  sequestered  swamp,  now  called  Dutch-street,  but  more 
commonly  knov/n  by  the  name  of  Dog's  Misery. 

Here,  like  the  good  Numa,  he  reposed  from  the  toils  of  legis- 
lation, taking  lessons  in  government,  not  from  the  nymph 
Egeria,  but  from  the  honoured  wife  of  his  bosom ;  who  was  one 
of  that  peculiar  kind  of  females,  sent  upon  earth  a  Httle  after 
the  flood,  as  a  punishment  for  the  sins  of  mankind,  and  com- 
monly known  by  the  appellation  of  knowing  ivomen.  In  fact, 
my  duty  as  a  historian  obliges  me  to  make  known  a  circum- 
stance which  was  a  great  secret  at  the  time,  and  consequently 
was  not  a  subject  of  scandal  at  more  than  half  the  tea-tables  in 
New- Amsterdam,  but  which,  Uke  m^any  other  great  secrets,  has 
leaked  out  in  the  lapse  of  years— and  this  was  that  the  great 
Wilhelmus  the  Testy,  though  one  of  the  most  potent  little  men. 
that  ever  breathed,  yet  submitted  at  home  to  a  species  of  gov- 
ernment, neither  laid  down  in  Aristotle  nor  Plato ;  in  short,  it 
partook  of  the  nature  of  a  pure,  unmixed  tyranny,  and  is 
familiarly  denominated  petticoat  government.  An  absolute 
sway,  which,  though  exceedingly  common  in  these  modern 
days,  was  very  rare  among  the  ancients,  if  we  may  judge  from 
the  rout  made  about  the  domestic  economy  of  honest  Socrates ; 
which  is  the  only  ancient  case  on  record. 

The  great  Kieft,  however,  warded  off  all  the  sneers  and  sar 
casms  of  his  particular  friends,  who  are  ever  ready  to  joke 
mth  a  man  on  sore  points  of  the  kind,  by  alleging  that  it  was  a 
government  of  his  own  election,  to  which  he  subinitted  through 
choice ;  adding  at  the  same  time  a  profound  maxim  which  he 
had  found  in  an  ancient  author,  that  "he  who  would  aspire  to 
govern^  should  first  learn  to  obey.'''' 


138 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- TORE. 


f 

CHAPTER  II. 

IN  WHICH  ARE  RECORDED  THE  SAGE  PROJECTS  OF  A  RULER  0? 
UNIVERSAL  GENIUS — THE  ART  OF  FIGHTING  BY  PROCLAMATION- 
AMD  HOW  THAT  THE  VALIANT  JACOBUS  VAN  CURLET  CAME  TO  BF. 
FOULLY  DISHONOURED  AT  FORT  GOED  HOOP. 

Never  was  a  more  comprehensive,  a  more  expeditious,  or, 
what  is  still  better,  a  more  economical  measure  devised,  than 
this  of  defeating  the  Yankees  by  proclamation — an  expedient, 
Hl?:ewise,  so  humane,  so  gentle  and  pacific,  there  were  ten 
chances  to  one  in  favour  of  its  succeeding, — ^but  then  there  was 
one  chance  to  ten  that  it  woidd  not  succeed — as  the  ill-natured 
fates  would  have  it,  that  single  chance  carried  the  day !  The 
proclamation  was  perfect  in  all  its  parts,  well  constructed,  well 
written,  well  sealed,  and  well  published — ail  that  was  wanting 
to  insure  its  effect  was  that  the  Yankees  should  stand  in  awe 
of  it ;  but,  provoking  to  relate,  they  treated  it  with  the  most 
absolute  contempt,  applied  it  to  an  unseemly  purpose,  and  thus 
did  the  first  warlike  proclamation  come  to  a  shameful  end — a 
fate  which  I  am  credibly  informed  has  befallen  but  too  many 
of  its  successors. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Wilhelmus  Kieft  could  be  per- 
suaded, by  the  united  efforts  of  all  his  counsellors,  that  his 
war  measures  had  failed  in  producing  any  effect.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  flew  in  a  passion  whenever  any  one  dared  to  ques- 
tion its  efficacy ;  and  swore  that,  though  it  was  slow  in  operat- 
ing, yet  when  once  it  began  to  work,  it  would  soon  purge  the 
land  of  these  rapacious  intruders.  Time,  however,  that  test  of 
all  experiments,  both  in  philosophy  and  politics,  at  length  con- 
vinced the  great  Kieft  that  his  proclamation  was  abortive;  and 
that  notwithstanding  he  had  waited  nearly  four  years  in  a  state 
of  constant  irritation,  yet  he  was  still  farther  oft"  than  ever 
from  the  object  of  his  wishes.  His  implacable  adversaries  in 
the  east  became  more  and  more  troublesome  in  their  encroach- 
ments, and  founded  the  thriving  colony  of  Hartford  close  upon 
the  skirts  of  Fort  Goed  Hoop.  They,  moreover,  commenced 
the  fair  settlement  of  New-Hay  en  (otherwise  called  the  Red 
Hills)  within  the  domams  of  their  High  ]\Iightinesses — wliile 
the  onion-patches  of  Piquag  were  a  continual  eyesore  to  the 
garrison  of  Van  Curlet.    Upon  beholding,  therefore,  the  in- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


139 


efficacy  of  his  measure,  the  sago  Kieft,  like  many  a  worthy 
practitioner  of  physic,  laid  the  blame  not  to  the  medicine,  but 
to  the  quantity  administered,  and  resolutely  resolved  to  double 
the  dose. 

In  the  year  IGoS,  therefore,  that  being  the  fourth  year  of  his 
reign,  he  fulminated  against  them  a  second  proclamation,  of 
Iicavicr  metal  than  the  former ;  written  in  thundering  long  sen- 
tences, not  one  word  of  wliich  was  under  five  syllables.  This, 
in  fact,  was  a  kind  of  non-intercourse  bill,  forbidding  and  pro- 
hibiting all  commerce  and  connexion  between  any  and  every 
of  the  said  Yankee  intruders,  and  the  said  fortified  post  of 
Fort  Goed  Hoop,  and  ordering,  commanding,  and  advising  all 
his  trusty,  loyal,  and  well-beloved  sulojects  to  furnish  them 
with  no  supplies  of  gin,  gingerbread,  or  sourkrout;  to  buy 
none  of  their  pacing  horses,  measly  pork,  apple-brandy,  Yankee 
rum,  cider-Yv^ator,  apple  sweetmeats,  Weathersfield  onions,  tin- 
ware, or  wooden  bowls,  but  to  starve  and  exterminate  them 
from  the  face  of  the  land. 

Another  pause  of  a  twelvemonth  ensued,  during  which  tliis 
proclamation  received  the  same  attention  and  experienced  the 
same  fate  as  the  first.  In  truth,  it  Vv^as  rendered  of  no  avail  by 
the  heroic  spirit  of  the  Nederlanders  themselves.  No  sooner 
were  they  prohibited  the  use  of  Yankee  merchandise,  than 
it  immediately  became  indispensable  to  their  very  existence. 
The  men  who  all  their  lives  had  been  content  to  drink  gin 
and  ride  Esopus  switch-tails,  now  swore  that  it  was  sheer 
tyranny  to  deprive  them  of  apple-brandy  and  Narraghanset 
pacers ;  and  as  to  the  women,  they  declared  there  was  no  com- 
fort in  hfe  without  Weathersfield  onions,  tin  kettles,  and 
wooden  bowls.  So  they  all  set  to  work,  with  might  and  main, 
to  carry  on  a  smuggling  trade  over  the  borders ;  and  the  pro- 
vince was  as  full  as  ever  of  Yankee  wares,— T^^th  this  differ- 
ence, that  those  wlio  used  them  had  to  pa,y  double  price,  for 
the  trouble  and  risk  incurred  in  breaking  the  la^vs. 
/  A  signal  benefit  arose  from  these  measures  of  Wilham  the 
Testy.  The  efforts  to  evade  them  had  a  marvellous  effect  in 
shai^^ening  the  intellects  of  the  people.  They  were  no  longer 
to  be  governed  without  laws,  as  in  the  time  of  Oloffe  the 
Dreamer ;  nor  would  the  jack-knife  and  tobacco-box  of  Walter 
the  Doubter  have  any  more  served  as  a  judicial  process.  The 
old  Nederlandt  maxim,  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy,"  was 
scouted  as  the  bane  of  all  ingenious  enterprise.  To  use  a  mod- 
<?m  phrase,  "a  great  impulse  had  been  given  to  the  pubhc 


140 


4  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


mind and  from  the  time  of  this  first  experience  in  smugghng, 
we  may  perceive  a  vast  increase  in  the  number,  intiicacy,  and 
severity  of  laws  and  statutes— a  sure  proof  of  the  increasing 
keenness  of  pubhc  intellect. 

A  twelvemonth  having  elapsed  since  the  issuing  of  the  pro- 
clamation, the  gallant  Jacobus  Van  Curlet  despatched  his  an- 
nual messenger,  with  his  customary  budget  of  complaints  and 
entreaties.  Whether  the  regular  interval  of  a  year,  interven- 
ing between  the  arrival  of  Van  Curlet's  couriers,  was  occar 
sioned  by  the  systematic  regularity  of  his  movements,  or  by 
the  immense  distance  at  which  he  was  stationed  from  the  seat 
of  government,  is  a  matter  of  uncertainty.  Some  have  ascribed 
it  to  the  slowness  of  his  messengers,  who,  as  I  have  before 
noticed,  were  chosen  from  the  shortest  and  fattest  of  his  garri- 
son, as  least  hkely  to  be  worn  out  on  the  road ;  and  who,  being 
pursy,  short-winded  little  men,  generally  travelled  fifteen  miles 
a  day,  and  then  laid  by  a  whole  week  to  rest.  All  these,  how- 
ever, are  matters  of  conjecture;  and  I  rather  think  it  may  be 
ascribed  to  the  immemorial  maxim  of  this  worthy  country— 
and  which  has  ever  influenced  all  its  public  transactions — not 
to  do  things  in  a  hurry. 

The  gallant  Jacobus  Van  Curlet,  in  his  despatches,  respect- 
fully represented  that  several  years  had  now  elapsed  since  his 
first  application  to  his  late  excellency,  Wouter  Van  Twiller; 
during  which  interval  his  garrison  had  been  reduced  nearly 
one-eighth,  by  the  death  of  two  of  his  most  valiant  and  corpu- 
lent soldiers,  who  had  accidentally  over- eaten  themselves  on 
some  fat  salmon,  caught  in  the  Varsche  river.  He  further 
stated,  that  the  enemy  persisted  in  their  inroads,  taking  no 
notice  of  the  fort  or  its  inhabitants :  but  squatting  themselves 
down,  and  forming  settlements  all  around  it ;  so  that,  in  a  lit- 
tle while,  he  should  find  himself  inclosed  and  blockaded  by 
the  enemy,  and  totally  at  their  mercy. 

But  among  the  most  atrocious  of  his  gi'ievances,  I  find  the 
following  still  on  record,  which  may  serve  to  show  the  bloody- 
minded  outrages  of  these  savage  intruders.  "In  the  mean- 
time, they  of  Hartford  have  not  onely  usurped  and  taken  in 
the  lands  of  Connecticott,  although  unrighteously  and  against 
the  lawes  of  nations,  but  have  hindered  our  nation  in  sowing 
theire  own  purchased  broken  up  lands,  but  have  also  sowed 
them  with  corne  in  the  night,  which  the  Netherlanders  had 
broken  up  and  intended  to  sowe :  and  have  beaten  the  servants 
of  the  high  and  mighty  the  honored  companie,  which  were 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


141 


labouring  upon  theire  master's  lands,  from  theire  lands,  with 
stick^5  and  plow  staves  in  hostile  manner  laming,  and  among 
the  rest,  struck  Ever  Duckings*  a  hole  in  his  head,  with  a 
stick,  so  that  the  blood  ran  downe  very  strongly  downe  upon 
his  body." 
But  what  is  still  more  atrocious — 

"  Those  of  Hartford  sold  a  hogg,  that  belonged  to  the  hon- 
ored companie,  under  pretence  that  it  had  eaten  of  theiro 
grounde  grass,  when  they  had  not  any  foot  of  inheritance. 
They  proffered  the  hogg  for  5s.  if  the  commissioners  would 
have  given  58.  for  damage ;  which  the  commissioners  denied, 
because  noe  man's  own  hogg  (as  men  used  to  say)  can  trespass 
upon  his  owne  master's  grounde. "f 

The  receipt  of  this  melancholy  intelligence  incensed  the 
whole  community — there  was  something  in  it  that  spoke  to 
the  dull  comj)rehension,  and  touched  the  obtuse  feelings,  even 
of  the  puissant  vulgar,  who  generally  require  a  kick  in  the 
rear  to  awaken  their  slumbering  dignity.  I  have  known  my 
profound  fellow-citizens  bear,  without  murmur,  a  thousand 
essential  infringements  of  their  rights,  merely  because  they 
were  not  immediately  obvious  to  their  senses — but  the  mo- 
ment the  unlucky  Pearce  was  shot  upon  our  coasts,  the  whole 
body  politic  v/a.s  in  a  ferment — so  the  enlightened  Neder- 
landers,  though  they  had  treated  the  encroachments  of  their 
eastern  neighbours  with  but  little  regard,  and  left  their  quill- 
valiant  governor  to  bear  the  whole  brunt  of  war  with  his 
single  pen— yet  now  every  individual  felt  his  head  broken 
in  the  broken  head  of  Duckings — and  the  unhappy  tate  of  their 
fellow-citizen  the  hog  being  impressed,  carried  and  sold  into 
captivity,  awakened  a  grunt  of  sympathy  from  every  bosom. 

The  governor  and  council,  goaded  by  the  clamours  of  the 
multitude,  now  set  themselves  earnestly  to  deliberate  upon 
what  was  to  be  done. — Proclamations  had  at  length  fallen  into 
temporary  disrepute :  some  v/ere  for  sending  the  Yankees  a  tri- 
bute, as  we  make  peace-offering  to  the  petty  Barbary  powers, 
or  as  the  Indians  sacrifice  to  the  devil ;  others  were  for  buy- 
ing them  out,  but  this  was  opposed,  as  it  would  be  acknow- 
ledging their  title  to  the  land  they  had  seized.    A  variety  of 


*  This  name  is  no  doubt  misspelt.  In  some  old  Dutch  MSS.  of  the  time,  we  find 
the  name  of  Evert  Duyckingh,  who  is  unquestionably  the  unfortunate  hero  above 
alluded  to. 

t  Haz.  Col.  State  Papers. 


142 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


measures  were,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  produced,  discussed, 
and  abandoned,  and  the  council  had  at  last  to  adopt  the 
means,  which  being  the  most  common  and  obvious,  had  been 
knowingly  overlooked— for  your  amazing  acute  politicians  are 
for  ever  looking  through  telescopes,  which  only  enable  them 
to  see  such  objects  as  are  far  off,  and  unattainable,  but  whic]i 
incapacitate  them  to  see  such  things  as  are  in  their  reach,  and 
obvious  to  all  simple  folks,  who  are  content  to  look  with  the 
naked  eyes  Heaven  has  given  them.  The  profound  council,  as 
I  have  said,  in  the  pursuit  after  Jack-o'-lanterns,  accidentally 
stumbled  on  the  very  measure  they  were  in  need  of :  which 
was  to  raise  a  body  of  troops,  and  despatch  them  to  the  relief 
and  reenf orcement  of  the  garrison.  This  measure  was  carried 
into  such  prompt  operation,  that  in  less  than  twelve  months, 
the  whole  expedition,  consisting  of  a  sergeant  and  twelve  men, 
was  ready  to  march;  and  was  re'vdewed  for  that  purpose,  in 
the  public  square,  now  known  by  the  name  of  the  Bowling- 
Green.  Just  at  this  juncture,  the  whole  community  was 
thrown  into  consternation,  by  the  sudden  arrival  of  the  gal- 
lant Jacobus  Van  Curlet,  who  came  straggling  into  town  at 
the  head  of  his  crew  of  tatterdemalions,  and  bringing  the 
melancholy  tidings  of  his  own  defeat,  and  the  capture  of  the 
redoubtable  post  of  Fort  Goed  Hoop  by  the  ferocious  Yankees. 

The  fate  of  this  important  fortress  is  an  impressive  warning 
to  all  military  commanders.  It  was  neither  carried  by  storm 
nor  famine ;  no  practicable  breach  was  effected  by  cannon  or 
mines;  no  magazines  were  blown  up  by  red-hot  shot,  nor 
were  the  barracks  demolished,  or  the  garrison  destroyed,  by 
the  bursting  of  bombshells.  In  fact,  the  place  was  taken  by  a 
stratagem  no  less  singular  than  effectual;  and  one  that  can 
never  fail  of  success,  whenever  an  opportunity  occurs  of  put- 
ting it  in  practice.  Happy  am  1  to  add,  for  the  credit  of  our 
illustrious  ancestors,  that  it  was  a  stratagem,  which  though  it 
impeached  the  vigilance,  yet  left  the  bravery  of  the  intrepid 
Van  Curlet  and  his  garrison  perfectly  free  from  reproach. 

It  appears  that  the  crafty  Yankees,  having  heard  of  the 
regular  habits  of  the  garrison,  watched  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, and  silently  introduced  themselves  into  the  fort,  about 
the  middle  of  a  sultry  day ;  when  its  vigilant  defenders,  having 
gorged  themselves  with  a  hearty  dinner,  and  smoked  out  their 
pi])es.  were  one  and  all  snoring  most  obstreperously  at  their 
posts,  little  dreaming  of  so  disastrous  an  occurrence.  The 
enemy  most  inhumanly  seized  Jacobus  Van  Curlet  and  his 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK.  H3 

sturdy  myrmidons  by  tho  nape  of  the  neck,  gallanted  them  to 
the  gate  of  the  fort,  and  dismissed  them  severally,  with  a  kick 
on  the  crupper,  as  Charles  the  Twelfth  dismissed  the  heavy- 
bottomed  Russians,  after  the  battle  of  Narva — only  taking  care 
to  give  two  kicks  to  Van  Curlet,  as  a  signal  mark  of  distinc- 
tion. 

j  A  strong  garrison  was  immediately  established  in  the  fort, 
consisting  of  twenty  long-sided,  hard-listed  Yankees,  with 
Wcathersfield  onions  stuck  in  their  hats  by  way  of  cockades 
and  feathers — long  rusty  fowling-pieces  for  muskets — hasty- 
pudding,  dumb-fish,  pork  and  molasses,  for  stores;  and  a  huge 
pumpkin  was  hoisted  on  the  end  of  a  pole,  as  a  standard — 
liberty  caps  not  having  yet  come  into  fashion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONTAINING  THE  FEARFUL  WRATH  OF  WILLIAM  THE  TESTY,  AND 
THE  GREAT  DOLOUR  OF  THE  NEW-AMSTERDAMERS,  BECAUSE  OP 
THE  AFFAIR  OF  FORT  GOED  HOOP — AND,  MOREOVER,  HOW  WIL- 
LIAM THE  TESTY  DID  STRONGLY  FORTIFY  THE  CITY — TOGETHER 
WITH  THE  EXPLOITS  OF  STOFFEL  BRINKERTIOFF. 

Language  cannot  express  the  prodigious  fury  into  which  the 
testy  Wilhclmus  Kieft  was  thrown  by  this  provoking  intelli- 
gence. For  three  good  hours  the  rage  of  the  little  man  was 
too  great  for  words,  or  rather  the  words  were  too  gi'eat  for 
him ;  and  he  was  nearly  choked  by  some  dozen  huge,  mis- 
shapen, nine-cornered  Dutch  oaths,  that  crowded  all  at  once 
into  his  gullet.  Having  blazed  off  the  first  broadside,  he  kept 
up  a  constant  firing  for  three  whole  days — anathematizing 
the  Yankees,  man,  woman,  and  child,  body  and  soul,  for  a  set 
of  dieven,  schobbejaken,  deugenieten,  tmst-zoekeren,  loozen- 
schalken,  blaes-kaken,  kakken-bedden,  and  a  thousand  other 
names,  of  wluch,  unfortunately  for  posterity,  liistory  does  not 
make  mention.  Finally,  he  swore  that  he  would  have  notliing 
more  to  do  with  such  a  squatting,  bundling,  guessing,  ques- 
tioning, swapping,  pumpkin-eating,  molasses-daubing,  shingle- 
sphtting,  cider-watering,  horse-jockeying,  notion-peddhng 
crew— that  they  might  stay  at  Fort  Goed  Hoop  and  rot,  before 
he  would  dirty  his  hands  by  attempting  to  drive  them  away ; 


144 


.'1  IIISTORT  OF  NEW-TORE. 


in  proof  of  which,  he  ordered  the  new-raised  troops  to  bo 
marched  forthwith  into  winter-quarters,  although  it  was  not 
as  yet  quite  mid-summer.  Governor  Kieft  faithfully  kept  his 
word,  and  his  adversaries  as  faithfully  kept  their  post ;  and 
thus  the  glorious  river  Connecticut,  and  all  the  gay  valleys 
tiirough  vv^iich  it  rolls,  together  with  the  salmon,  shad,  and 
other  fish  within  its  waters,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victo- 
rious Yankees,  by  whom  they  are  held  at  this  very  day. 

Great  despondency  seized  upon  the  city  of  New  Amsterdam, 
in  consequence  of  these  melancholy  events.  The  name  of  Yan- 
kee became  as  terrible  among  our  good  ancestors  as  was  that 
of  Gaul  among  the  ancient  Eomans;  and  all  the  sage  old 
women  of  the  province  used  it  as  a  bugbear,  wherewith  to 
frightsn  their  unruly  children  into  obedience. 

The  eyes  of  all  the  province  were  now  turned  upon  their  go- 
vernor, to  know  what  he  would  do  for  the  protection  of  the 
common  weal,  in  these  days  of  darkness  and  peril.  Great 
apprehensions  prevailed  among  the  reflecting  part  of  the  com- 
munity, especially  the  old  women,  that  these  terrible  warriors 
of  Connecticut,  not  content  with  the  conquest  of  Fort  Goed 
Hoop,  would  incontinently  march  on  to  New- Amsterdam  and 
take  it  by  storm — and  as  these  old  ladies,  through  means  of  the 
governor's  spouse,  who,  as  has  been  already  hinted,  was  ' '  the 
better  horse,"  had  obtained  considerable  influence  in  public 
affairs,  keeping  the  province  under  a  kind  of  petticoat  govern- 
ment, it  was  determined  that  measures  should  be  taken  for  the 
effective  fortification  of  the  city. 

Now  it  happened,  that  at  this  time  there  sojourned  in  New- 
Amsterdam  one  Anthony  Van  Corlear,*  a  jolly  fat  Dutch 
trumpeter,  of  a  pleasant  burly  visage,  famous  for  his  long  wind 
and  his  huge  whiskers,  and  who,  as  the  story  goes,  could  twang 
so  potently  upon  his  instrument,  as  to  produce  an  effect  upon 
all  within  hearing,  as  though  ten  thousand  bag-pipes  were  sing- 
ing right  lustily  i'  the  nose.  Him  did  the  illustrious  Kieft  pick 
out  as  the  man  of  all  the  world  most  fitted  to  be  the  cliampion  of 
New- Amsterdam,  and  to  garrison  its  tort ;  making  little  doubt 
but  tha.t  his  instrument  would  be  as  effectual  and  offensive  in 
war  as  was  that  of  the  paladin  Astolpho,  or  the  more  classic 


*  David  Pietrez  De  Vries,  in  his  "  Rejze  naer  Niemv-Nertorlant  onder  het.  year 
1640,"  makes  mention  of  one  Corlear,  a  trumpeter  in  Fort  Amsterdam,  who  gave 
name  to  Corlear's  Hook,  and  who  was  doubtless  this  same  champion  described 
by  Mr.  Kmckerbocker.— Editor. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


145 


horn  of  Alecto.  It  would  have  done  one's  heart  good  to  have 
seen  the  governor  snapping  his  fingers  and  fidgeting  with  dc- 
hght,  wliile  his  sturdy  trumpeter  strutted  uj)  and  down  the 
ramparts,  fearlessly  twanging  liis  trumpet  in  the  face  of  the 
whol(3  world,  like  a  thrice- valorous  editor  daringly  insultinjf  all 
the  princii)alities  and  powers — on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Nor  was  he  content  with  thus  strongly  garrisoning  the  fort, 
but  he  likewise  added  exceedingly  to  its  strength,  by  furnit:li  - 
ing  it  with  a  formidable  battery  of  quaker  guns— rearing  a  stu- 
pendous flag-staff  in  the  centre,  which  overtopped  the  whole 
city — and,  moreover,  by  building  a  great  windmill  on  one  of  the 
bastions.*  This  last,  to  be  sure,  was  somewhat  of  a  novelty  in 
the  art  of  fortification,  but,  as  I  have  already  observed,  William 
Kieft  was  notorious  for  innovations  and  experiments ;  and  tra- 
ditions do  affirm,  that  he  was  much  given  to  mechanical  inven- 
tions-constructing patent  smoke-jacks— carts  that  before 
the  horses,  and  especially  erecting  windmills,  for  which  ma- 
chines he  had  acquired  a  singular  predilection  in  his  native 
town  of  Saardam. 

All  these  scientific  vagaries  of  the  little  governor  were  cried 
up  with  ecstasy  by  his  adherents,  as  proofs  of  his  universal 
genius— but  there  were  not  wanting  ill-natured  grumblers,  who 
railed  at  him  as  employing  his  mind  in  frivolous  pursuits,  and 
devoting  that  time  to  smoke-jacks  and  windmills  which  should 
have  been  occupied  in  the  more  important  concerns  of  the  pro- 
vince. Nay,  they  even  went  so  far  as  to  hint,  once  or  twice, 
that  his  head  was  turned  by  his  experiments,  and  that  he 
really  thought  to  manage  his  government  as  he  did  his  mills— 
by  mere  wind ! — such  are  the  illiberality  and  slander  to  which 
enlightened  rulers  are  ever  subject. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  measures,  therefore,  of  William  the 
Testy,  to  place  the  city  in  a  posture  of  defence,  the  inhabitants 
continued  in  great  alarm  and  despondency.  But  fortune,  who 
seems  always  careful,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  to  throw  a  bone 
for  hojDe  to  gnaw  upon,  that  the  starvehng  elf  may  be  kept 
alive,  did  o.bout  this  time  crown  the  arms  of  the  province  with 
success  in  another  quarter,  and  thus  cheered  the  drooping 
hearts  of  the  forlorn  Nederlanders ;  otherwise,  there  is  no 
knowing  to  what  lengths  they  might  have  gone  in  the  excess 


*  De  Vries  mentions  that  this  windmill  stood  on  the  south-east  bastion;  find  it  is 
likewise  to  be  seen,  together  with  the  flag-staff,  in  Justus  Banker's  View  of  New- 


14G 


A  JIISTORY  OF  jSEW-YORK. 


of  their  sorrowing — "for  grief,"  says  the  profound  historian 
of  the  seven  champions  of  Christendom,  "is  companion  with 
despair,  and  despair  a  procurer  of  infamous  death !" 

^mong  the  numerous  inroads  of  the  mosstroopers  of  Con- 
necticut, Avhich  for  some  time  past  had  occasioned  such  great 
tribulation,  I  should  particularly  have  mentioned  a  settlement 
made  on  the  eastern  part  of  Long  Island,  at  a  place  which, 
from  the  peculiar  excellence  of  its  shell-fish,  was  called  Oyster 
Bay.  This  was  attacking  the  province  in  the  most  sensible 
part,  and  occasioned  great  agitation  at  New- Amsterdam. 

It  is  an  incontrovertible  fact,  well  known  to  skilful  johysiolo- 
gists,  that  the  high  road  to  lihe  affections  is  through  the  throat ; 
and  this  may  be  accounted  for  on  the  same  principles  which  I 
have  already  quoted  in  my  strictures  on  fat  aldermen.  Nor  is 
the  fact  unknown  to  the  world  at  large ;  and  hence  do  we  ob- 
serve, that  the  surest  way  to  gain  the  hearts  of  the  million,  is 
to  feed  them  well — and  that  a  man  is  never  so  disposed  to  flat- 
ter, to  please  and  serve  another,  p,s  when  he  is  feeding  at  his 
expense ;  which  is  one  reason  why  your  rich  men,  who  give 
frequent  dinners,  have  such  abundance  of  sincere  and  faithful 
friends.  It  is  on  this  principle  that  our  knowing  leaders  of 
parties  secure  the  affections  of  their  partisans,  by  rewarding 
them  bountifully  with  loaves  and  fishes ;  and  entrap  the  suf- 
frages of  the  greasy  mob,  by  treating  them  with  bull  feasts  and 
roasted  oxen.  I  have  known  many  a  man,  in  this  same  city, 
acquire  considerable  importance  in  society,  and  usurp  a  large 
share  of  the  good-will  of  his  enlightened  fellow-citizens,  when 
the  only  thing  that  could  be  said  in  his  eulogium  was,  that 
"  he  gave  a  good  dinner,  and  kept  excellent  wine." 

Since,  then,  the  heart  and  the  stomach  are  so  nearly  allied, 
it  follows  conc^_usively  that  what  affects  the  one,  must  sympa- 
thetically affect  the  other.  Now,  it  is  an  equally  incontro- 
vertible fact,  that  of  all  offerings  to  the  stomach,  there  is  none 
more  grateful  than  the  testaceous  marine  animal,  known  com- 
monly by  the  vulgar  name  of  Oyster.  And  in  such  great  rev- 
erence has  it  ever  been  held,  by  my  gormandizing  fellow-citi- 
zens, that  temples  have  been  dedicated  to  it,  time  out  of  mind, 
in  every  street,  lane,  and  alley  throughout  tliis  well-fed  city. 
It  is  not  to  be  expected,  therefore,  that  the  seizing  of  Oyster 
Bay,  a  place  abounding  with  their  favourite  dehcacy,  would  be 
tolerated  by  the  inhabitants  of  New- Amsterdam.  An  attack 
upon  their  honour  they  might  have  pardoned;  even  the  mas- 
sacre of  a  few  citizens  might  have  been  passed  over  in  silence ; 


A  niSTORY  OF  KKW-TORK. 


147 


hut  an  outrage  that  affected  the  larders  of  the  great  city  of 
New- Amsterdam,  and  threatened  the  stomachs  of  its  corpulent 
burgomasters,  was  too  serious  to  pass  unrevcnged. — The  whole 
council  was  unanimous  in  opinion,  that  the  intruders  should 
be  immediately  di-iven  by  force  of  arms  from  Oyster  Bay  and 
its  \dcinity,  and  a  detachment  was  accordingly  despatched  for 
the  purpose,  under  the  command  of  one  Stoffel  Brinkerhoff ,  or 
Brinkerhoofd,  {i.e.  Stoffel,  the  head-breaker,)  so  called  because 
he  was  a  man  of  mighty  deeds,  famous  throughout  the  whole 
extent  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts  for  his  skill  at  quarter-staff ;  and 
for  size,  he  would  have  been  a  match  for  Colbrand,  the  Danish 
champion,  slain  by  Guy  of  Warwick. 

Stoffel  Brinkerhoff  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  prompt 
actions— one  of  your  straight-going  officers,  who  march  directly 
forward ;  and  do  their  orders  without  making  any  parade.  He 
used  no  extraordinary  speed  in  his  movements,  but  trudged 
steadily  on,  through  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  and  Jericho  and 
Patchog,  and  the  mighty  town  of  Quag,  and  various  other 
renowned  cities  of  yore,  which,  by  some  unaccountable  witch- 
craft of  the  Yankees,  have  been  strangely  transplanted  to 
Long  Island,  until  he  arrived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Oyster 
Bay. 

Here  was  he  encountered  by  a  tumultuous  host  of  vahant 
warriors,  headed  by  Preserved  Fish,  and  Habakkuk  Nutter, 
and  Eeturn  Strong,  and  Zerubbabel  Fish,  and  Jonathan  Doo- 
little,  and  Deternxined  Cock  I — at  the  sound  of  whose  names  the 
courageous  Stoffel  verily  believed  that  the  v/hole  parliament 
of  Praise-God-Barebones  had  been  let  loose  to  discomfit  him. 
Finding,  however,  that  this  formidable  body  was  composed 
merely  of  the  "select  men"  of  the  settlement,  armed  with  no 
other  weapon  but  their  tongues,  and  that  they  had  issued  forth 
with  no  other  intent  than  to  meet  him  on  the  field  of  argument 
—he  succeeded  in  rnitting  them  to  the  rout  with  little  diffi- 
culty, and  completely  broke  up  their  settlement.  Without 
waiting  to  write  an  account  of  his  victory  on  the  spot,  and 
thus  letting  the  enemy  shp  through  his  fingers,  while  he  was 
securing  his  own  laurels,  as  a  more  experienced  general  would 
have  done,  the  brave  Stoffel  thought  of  nothing  but  completing 
his  enterprise,  and  utterly  driving  the  Yankees  from  the  island. 
This  hardy  enterprise  he  performed  in  much  the  same  manner 
as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  drive  his  oxen ;  for  as  the  Yan- 
kees fled  before  him,  he  pulled  up  his  breeches  and  trudged 
steadily  after  them,  and  woidd  infallibly  have  driven  them 


148 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOliK. 


into  the  sea,  had  they  not  begged  for  quarter,  and  agreed  to 
pay  tribute. 

The  news  of  this  achievement  was  a  seasonable  restorative 
to  the  spiiits  of  the  citizens  of  New- Amsterdam.  To  gratify 
them  still  more,  the  governor  resolved  to  astonish  tiiein  with 
one  of  those  gorgeous  spectacles,  known  in  the  days  of  classic 
a  itiquity,  a  full  account  of  which  had  been  flogged  into  his 
memory,  when  a  school-boy  at  the  Hague.  A  grand  triumph, 
therefore,  was  decreed  to  Stoifel  Brinkerhoff,  who  made  his 
triumphant  entrance  into  town  riding  on  a  Naraganset  pacer ; 
five  pumi>kms,  which,  hke  Eoman  eagles,  had  served  the 
enemy  for  standards,  were  carried  before  him— fifty  cart  loads 
of  oysters,  five  hundred  bushels  of  Weathersfield  onions,  a  hun- 
dred quintals  of  codfish,  two  hogsheads  of  molasses,  and  vari- 
ous other  treasures,  were  exhibited  as  the  spoils  and  tribute  of 
the  Yankees ;  while  three  notorious  counterfeiters  of  Manliat- 
tan  notes  *  were  led  captive,  to  grace  the  hero's  triumph.  The 
procession  was  enlivened  by  martial  music  from  the  trumpet 
of  Anthony  Van  Corlear,  the  champion,  accompanied  by  a 
select  band  of  boys  and  negroes  performing  on  the  national  in- 
struments of  rattle-bones  and  clam-shells.  The  citizens  de- 
voured the  spoils  in  sheer  gladness  of  heart— every  man  did 
honour  to  the  conqueror,  by  getting  devoutly  drunk  on  New- 
England  rum — and  the  learned  Wilhelmus  Kieft,  calling  to 
mind,  in  a  momentary  fit  of  enthusiasm  and  generosity,  that 
it  was  customary  among  the  ancients  to  honour  their  victo- 
rious generals  with  pubhc  statues,  passed  a  gracious  decree,  by 
which  every  tavern-keeper  was  permitted  to  paint  the  head  of 
the  intrepid  Stofiel  on  his  sign ! 


*This  is  one  of  those  trivial  anachronisms,  that  now  and  then  occur  in  the  course 
of  this  otherwise  authentic  history.  How  could  Manhattan  notes  be  counterfeited, 
when  as  yet  Banks  were  unknown  in  this  country?— and  our  simple  progenitors  had 
pot  even  dreamt  of  those  inexhaustible  mines  of  paper  opulence.— Fbiht:.  Dev. 


A  UISTOUY  OF  JVmV-YOliK 


149 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PHILOSOPHICAL  REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  FOLLY  OF  BEING  HAPPTZ 
IN  TIMES  OF  PROSPERITY — SUNDRY  TROUBLES  ON  THE  SOUTH- 
ERN FRONTIERS— HOW  WILLIAM  THE  TESTY  HAD  WELL  NIGH 
RUINED  THE  PROVINCE  THROUGH  A  CABALISTIC  WORD— AS  ALSO 
THE  SECRET  EXPEDITION  OF  JAN  JANSEN  ALPENDAM,  AND  HIS 
ASTONISHING  REWARD. 

If  we  could  but  get  a  peep  at  the  tally  of  dame  Fortune, 
where,  like  a  notable  landlady,  she  regularly  chalks  up  the 
debtor  and, creditor  accounts  of  mankind,  we  should  find  that, 
upon  the  whole,  good  and  evil  are  pretty  near  balanced  in  this 
world ;  and  that  though  we  may  for  a  long  while  revel  in  the 
very  lap  of  prosperity,  the  time  will  at  length  come  when  we 
must  ruefully  pay  off  the  reckoning.  Fortune,  in  fact,  is  a  pes- 
tilent shrew,  and  withal  a  most  inexorable  creditor ;  for  though 
she  may  indulge  her  favourites  in  long  credits,  and  overwhelm 
them  with  her  favours,  yet  sooner  or  later  she  brings  up  her 
arrears  with  the  rigour  of  an  experienced  publican,  and  washes 
out  her  scores  with  their  tears.  ''Since,"  says  good  old 
Boetius,  "  no  man  can  retain  her  at  his  pleasure,  and  since  her 
flight  is  so  deeply  lamented,  what  are  her  favours  but  sure 
prognostications  of  approaching  trouble  and  calamity?" 

There  is  nothing  that  more  moves  my  contempt  at  the  stu- 
pidity and  want  of  reflection  of  my  fellow-men,  than  to  behold 
them  rejoicing,  and  indulging  in  security  and  self-confidence, 
in  times  of  prosperity.  To  a  wise  man,  who  is  blessed  with  the 
light  of  reason,  those  are  the  very  moments  of  anxiety  and  ap- 
prehension; well  knowing  that  according  to  the  system  of 
things,  happiness  is  at  best  but  transient— and  that  the  higher 
he  is  elevated  by  the  capricious  breath  of  fortune,  the  lower 
must  be  his  proportionate  depression.  Whereas,  he  who  is 
overwhelmed  by  calamity,  has  the  less  chance  of  encounter- 
ing fresh  disasters,  as  a  man  at  the  bottom  of  a  ladder  runs 
very  little  risk  of  breaking  his  neck  by  tumbling  to  the  top. 

This  is  the  very  essence  of  true  wisdom,  which  consists  in 
knowing  when  we  ought  to  be  miserable;  and  w^as  discovered 
much  about  the  same  time  w^ith  that  invaluable  secret,  that 
*'  every  thing  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  sptiit;"  in  consequence 
of  wliich  maxim,  your  wise  men  have  ever  been  the  unhappi- 


150 


A  niSTOllY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


est  of  the  human  race ;  esteeming  it  as  an  inf alUble  mark  of 
genius  to  bo  distressed  without  reason— since  any  man  may 
be  miserable  in  time  of  misfortune,  but  it  is  the  philosopher 
alone  who  can  discover  cause  for  grief  in  the  very  hour  of 
prosperity. 

According  to  the  principle  I  have  just  advanced,  we  find  that 
the  colony  of  New-Netherlands,  which,  under  the  reign  of  the 
renowned  Van  Twill er,  had  flourished  in  such  alarming  and 
fatal  serenity,  is  now  paying  for  its  former  welfare,  and  dis 
charging  the  enormous  debt  of  comfort  which  it  contracted. 
Foes  harass  it  from  different  quarters;  the  city  of  New- Am- 
sterdam, while  yet  in  its  infancy,  is  kept  in  constant  alarm; 
and  its  valiant  commander,  William  the  Testy,  answers  the 
vtdgar,  but  expressive  idea,  of  "  a  man  in  a  peck  of  troubles." 

While  busily  engaged  repelling  his  bitter  enemies  the  Yankees 
on  one  side,  we  fin  d  him  suddenly  molested  in  another  quai'ter, 
and  by  other  assailants.  A  vagrant  colony  of  Swedes,  under 
the  conduct  of  Peter  Minnewits,  and  professing  allegiance  to 
that  redoubtable  virago,  Christina,  queen  of  Sweden,  had  set- 
tled themselves  and  erected  a  fort  on  South  (or  Delaware) 
River — within  the  boundaries  claimed  by  the  government  of 
the  New-Netherlands.  History  is  mute  as  to  the  particulars  of 
their  first  landing,  and  their  real  pretensions  to  the  soil ;  and 
this  is  the  more  to  be  lamented,  as  this  same  colony  of  Swedes 
wdll  hereafter  be  found  most  materially  to  affect  not  only  the 
interests  of  the  Nederlanders,  but  of  the  world  at  large ! 

In  whatever  manner,  therefore,  this  vagabond  colony  of 
Swedes  first  took  possession  of  the  country,  it  is  certain  that  in 
1C38  they  established  a  fort,  and  Minnewits,  according  to  the 
off-hand  usage  of  his  contemporaries,  declared  himself  governor 
of  all  the  adjacent  country,  under  the  name  of  the  province  of 
New  Sweden.  No  sooner  did  this  reach  the  ears  of  the  choleric 
Wilhelmus,  than,  like  a  true-spirited  chieftain,  he  immediately 
broke  into  a  violent  rage,  and  calhng  together  his  council,  Ix)- 
laboiu'cd  the  Swedes  most  lustily  in  the  longest  speech  that  had 
ever  been  heard  in  the  colony,  since  the  memorable  dispute  of 
Ten  Breeches  and  Tough  Breeches.  Having  thus  given  vent 
to  the  first  ebullitions  of  his  indignation,  he  ha.d  resort  to  his 
favourite  measure  of  proclamation,  and  despa.tched  one,  piping 
hot,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  mforming  Peter  Minnewits 
that  the  whole  territory,  bordering  on  the  South  river,  had. 
time  out  of  mind,  been  in  possession  of  the  Dutch  colonists, 
having  been  "  beset  with  forts,  and  sealed  with  their  blood." 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


15) 


The  latter  sanguinary  scnience  would  convey  an  idea  of  dire- 
ful war  and  bloodshed,  were  we  not  relieved  by  the  information 
that  it  merely  related  to  a  fray,  in  which  some  half-a-dozen 
Dutchmen  had  been  killed  by  the  Indians,  in  their  benevolent 
attempts  to  establish  a  colony  and  promote  civilization.  Bj 
this  it  will  be  seen,  that  William  Kieft,  though  a  very  small  man, 
delighted  in  big  expressions,  and  was  much  given  to  a  praise 
worthy  figure  of  rhetoric,  generally  cultivated  by  your  little 
great  men,  called  hyperbole — a  figure  which  has  been  found  of 
infinite  service  among  many  of  his  class,  and  which  has  helped 
to  swell  the  grandeur  of  many  a  mighty,  self-important,  but 
windy  chief  magistrate.  Nor  can  I  refrain  in  this  place  from 
observing  how  much  my  beloved  country  is  indebted  to  this 
same  figure  of  hyperbole,  for  supporting  certam  of  her  gi-eat- 
est  characters— statesmen,  orators,  civiMans,  and  divines ;  who, 
by  dint  of  big  words,  inflated  periods,  and  windy  doctrines, 
are  kept  afloat  on  the  surface  of  society,  as  ignorant  swimmers 
are  buoyed  up  by  blown  bladders. 

The  proclamation  against  Minnewits  concluded  by  orderinr; 
the  self -dubbed  governor,  and  his  gang  of  Swedish  adventurers, 
immediately  to  leave  the  country,  under  penalty  of  the  high 
displeasure  and  inevitable  vengeance  of  the  puissant  government 
of  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts.  This  "strong  measure,"  however, 
does  not  seem  to  have  had  a  whit  more  effect  than  its  prede- 
cessors which  had  been  thundered  against  the  Yankees — the 
Swedes  resolutely  held  on  to  the  territory  thej^  had  taken  pos- 
session of — whereupon  matters  for  the  present  remained  in 
statu  quo. 

That  Wilhelmus  Kieft  should  put  up  with  this  insolent  ob- 
stinacy in  the  Swedes,  would  appear  incompatible  with  his  val- 
orous temperament ;  but  Ave  find  that  about  this  time  the  httlo 
man  had  his  hands  fuU,  and,  Avhat  with  one  annoyance  and 
another,  was  kept  continually  on  the  bounce. 

There  is  a  certain  description  of  active  legislators,  who,  by 
shrewd  management,  contrive  always  to  have  a  hundred  irons 
on  the  anvil,  every  one  of  which  must  be  immediately  attended 
to;  who  consequently  are  ever  full  of  temporary  shifts  and  ex- 
pedients, patching  up  the  pubhc  welfare,  and  cobbhng  the  na- 
tional  affairs,  so  as  to  make  nine  holes  where  they  mend  one— 
stopping  chinks  and  flaws  with  whatever  comes  first  to  hand, 
like  the  Yankees  I  have  mentioned,  stuffing  old  clothes  in 
broken  windows.  Of  this  class  of  statesmen  was  William  the 
Testy — and  had  he  only  been  blessed  with  powers  equaJ  to  his 


152 


A  IIJSTOUY  OB'  ^ h:\V-70RK. 


zeal,  or  his  zeal  been  disciplined  by  a  little  discretion,  there  is 
very  little  doubt  that  he  would  have  made  the  greatest  governor 
of  his  size  on  record — the  renowned  governor  of  the  island  of 
Barataria  alone  excepted. 

Tlie  great  defect  of  Wilhelmus  Kieft's  policy  was,  that 
hough  no  man  could  be  more  ready  to  stand  forth  in  an  hour 
:»f  emergency,  yet  he  was  so  intent  upon  guardiag  the  national 
pocket,  that  he  suffered  the  enemy  to  break  its  head — in  other 
words,  whatever  i)recaution  for  public  safety  he  adopted,  he 
was  so  intent  upon  rendering  it  cheap,  that  he  invariably  ren- 
dered it  ineffectual.  All  this  was  a  remote  consequence  of  his 
profound  education  at  the  Hague — where,  having  acquired  a 
smattering  of  knowledge,  he  was  ever  after  a  great  Conner  of 
indexes,  continually  dipping  into  books,  without  ever  studying 
to  the  bottom  of  any  subject;  so  that  he  had  the  scum  of  all 
kinds  of  authors  fermenting  in  his  pericranium.  In  some  of 
these  title-page  researches,  he  unluckily  stumbled  over  a  grand 
political  cabalistic  icord,  which,  with  his  customary  facihty, 
he  unmediately  incorporated  into  his  great  scheme  of  govern- 
ment, to  the  irretrievable  injury  and  delusion  of  the  honest 
province  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts,  and  the  eternal  misleading  of 
all  experimental  rulers. 

In  vain  have  I  pored  over  the  theurgia  of  the  Chaldeans,  the 
cabala  of  the  Jews,  the  necromancy  of  the  Ai^abians,  the  magic 
of  the  Persians,  the  hocus-pocus  of  the  English,  the  witchcraft 
of  the  Yankees,  or  the  powwowing  of  the  Indians,  to  discover 
where  the  little  man  first  laid  eyes  on  this  terrible  word. 
Neither  the  Sephir  Jetzirah,  that  famous  cabahstic  volume, 
ascribed  to  the  patriarch  Abraham;  nor  the  pages  of  Zohar, 
containing  the  mysteries  of  the  cabala,  recorded  by  the  learned 
rabbi  Simon  Sochaides,  yield  any  light  to  my  inquiries — nor 
am  I  in  the  least  benefited  by  my  painful  researches  in  the 
Shem-ham-phorah  of  Benjamin,  the  wandering  Jew,  though  it 
enabled  Davidus  Elm  to  make  a  ten  days'  journey  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  Neither  can  I  perceive  the  slif^htest  afltinity  in  the 
Tetragrammaton,  or  sacred  name  of  four  letters,  the  profound- 
est  word  of  the  Hebrew  cabala ;  a  mystery  sublime,  ineffable, 
and  incommunicable — and  the  letters  of  which,  Jod-He-Yau- 
He,  having  been  stolen  by  the  pagans,  constituted  their  great 
name,  Jao  or  Jove.  In  short,  in  all  my  cabalistic,  theurgic, 
necromantic,  magicaJ.,  and  astrological  researches,  from  the 
Tetractys  of  Pythagoras  to  the  recondite  works  of  Breslaw  aLd 
Mother  Bunch,  I  have  not  discovered  the  least  vestige  of  an 


A  JIIiSTOIlY  OF  NEW  TOllK. 


153 


origin  of  this  word,  nor  have  I  discovered  any  word  of  suffi- 
cient potency  to  counteract  it. 

Not  to  keep  my  reader  in  any  suspense,  the  word  which  had 
so  wonderfully  arrested  the  attention  of  William  the  Testy, 
and  which  in  German  characters  had  a  particularly  black  and 
ominous  aspect,  on  being  fairly  translated  into  the  Enghsh,  is 
no  other  than  economy — a  talismanic  term,  which,  by  con- 
stant use  and  frequent  mention,  has  ceased  to  be  formidable  in 
our  eyes,  but  which  has  as  terrible  potency  as  any  in  tho 
arcana  of  necromancy  . 

When  pronounced  in  a  national  assembly,  ii  has  an  mimedi- 
ate  effect  in  closing  the  hearts,  beclouding  the  intellects,  draw- 
ing the  purse-strings  and  buttonin;^  the  breeches-pockets  of  all 
philosophic  legislators.  Nor  are  its  effects  on  the  eyes  less 
wonderful,  It  produces  a  contraction  of  the  retina,  an  obscur- 
ity of  the  crystalline  lens,  a  viscidity  of  the  vitreous  and  an 
inspissation  of  the  aqueous  humours,  an  induration  of  the 
tunica  sclerotica,  and  a  convexity  of  the  cornea ;  insomuch  that 
the  organ  of  vision  loses  its  strength  and  perspicuity,  and  the 
unfortunate  patient  becomes  myopes,  or,  in  plain  English,  pur- 
bhnd ;  perceiving  only  the  amount  of  immediate  expense,  with- 
out being  able  to  look  farther,  and  regard  it  in  connexion  with 
the  ultimate  object  to  be  effected— "So  that,"  to  quote  the 
words  of  the  eloquent  Burke,  ' '  a  briar  at  his  nose  is  of  greater 
magnitude  than  an  oak  at  five  hundred  yards'  distance. "  Such 
are  its  instantaneous  operations,  and  the  results  are  still  more 
i  astonishing.  By  its  magic  influence,  seventy -fours  shrink  into 
frigates — frigates  into  sloops,  and  sloops  into  gun-boats. 

This  all-potent  word,  wliich  served  as  his  touchstone  in  poli- 
tics, at  once  explains  the  whole  system  of  proclamations,  pro- 
t  tests,  empty  threats,  windmills,  trumpeters,  and  paper  war, 
\  carried  on  by  Wilhelmus  the  Testy — and  we  may  trace  its  ope- 
[  rations  in  an  armament  which  he  fitted  out  in  1642,  in  a 
!!  moment  of  great  wrath,  consisting  of  tv/o  sloops  and  thirty 
\  men,  under  the  command  of  Mynheer  Jan  Jansen  Alpendani, 
!  *as  admiral  of  the  fleet,  and  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces. 
'   This  formidable  expedition,  wliich  can  only  be  paralleled  by 
i  some  of  the  daring  cruises  of  our  infant  navy  about  the  bay 
j  and  up  the  Sound,  was  intended  to  drive  the  Mary  landers 
I  from  the  Schuylkill,  of  which  they  had  recently  taken  posses- 
\  sion— and  which  was  claimed  as  part  of  the  province  of  New- 
Nederlandts — for  it  appears  that  at  this  time  our  infant  colony 
was  in  that  enviable  state,  so  much  coveted  by  ambitious 


154 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEWTORK. 


natjons,  that  is  to  say,  the  government  had  a  vast  extent  of 
territory,  part  of  which  it  enjoyed,  and  the  greater  part  of 
which  it  had  continually  to  quarrel  about. 

Admiral  Jan  Jansen  Alpendam  was  a  man  of  great  mettle 
and  prowess,  and  no  way  dismayed  at  the  character  of  the 
enemy,  who  were  represented  as  a  gigantic,  gunpowder  race 
of  men,  who  lived  on  hoe-cakes  and  bacon,  drank  mint-juleps 
and  apple-toddy,  and  were  exceedingly  expert  at  boxing,  biting, 
gouging,  tar  and  feathering,  and  a  variety  of  other  athletic 
accomplishments,  which  they  had  borrowed  from  their  cousins- 
german  and  prototypes,  the  Virginians,  to  whom  they  ha<I 
ever  borne  considerable  resemblance.  Notwithstanding  all 
these  alarming  representations,  the  admiral  entered  the 
Schuylkill  most  undauntedly  with  his  fleet,  and  arrived  with- 
out disaster  or  opposition  at  the  place  of  destination. 

Here  he  attacked  the  enemy  in  a  vigorou  speech  in  Low 
Dutch,  which  the  wary  Kief  t  had  previously  put  in  his  pocket ; 
wherein  he  courteously  commenced  by  calling  them  a  pack 
of  lazy,  louting,  dram-drinking,  cock-fighting,  horse-racing, 
slave-driving,  tavern-haunting,  Sabbath-breaking,  mulatto- 
breeding  upstarts— and  concluded  by  ordering  them  to  evacu- 
ate the  country  immediately— to  which  they  most  laconically 
rephed  in  plain  English,    they'd  see  him  d  d  first." 

Now  this  was  a  reply  for  which  neither  Jan  Jansen  Alpen- 
dam nor  Wilhelmus  Kieft  had  made  any  calculation— and  find- 
ing himself  totally  unprepared  to  answer  so  terrible  a  rebuff 
with  suitable  hostility,  he  concluded  that  his  wisest  course  was 
to  return  home  and  report  progress.  He  accordingly  sailed 
back  to  New- Amsterdam,  where  he  was  received  with  great 
honours,  and  considered  as  a  pattern  for  all  commanders; 
having  achieved  a  most  hazardous  enterprise,  at  a  trifling  ex- 
pense of  treasure,  and  without  losing  a  single  man  to  the  State ! 
He  was  unanimously  called  the  deliverer  of  his  country,  (an 
appellation  liberally  bestowed  on  all  great  men ;)  his  two  sloops, 
having  done  their  duty,  were  laid  up  (or  dry-docked)  in  a  cove 
now  called  the  Albany  basin,  where  they  quietly  rotted  in  the 
mud ;  and  to  immortalize  his  name,  they  erected,  by  subscrip- 
tion, a  magnificent  sliingle  monument  on  the  top  of  Flatten- 
barrack  hill,  which  lasted  three  whole  years ;  when  it  fell  to 
pieces  and  was  burnt  for  firewood. 


^  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


155 


CHAPTER  V. 

now  WILLIAM  THE  TESTY  ENRICHED  THE  PROVINCE  BY  A  MULTI^ 
TUDE  OF  LAWS,  AND  CAME  TO  BE  THE  PATRON  OP  LAWYERS  AND 
BUM-BAILIFFS  —AND  HOW  THE  PEOPLE  BECAME  EXCEEDINGLY 
ENLIGHTENED  AND  UNHAPPY  UNDER  HIS  INSTRUCTIONS. 

Among  the  many  wrecks  and  fragments  of  exalted  wisdom 
which  have  floated  down  the  stream  of  time,  from  venerable 
antiquity,  and  have  been  carefully  picked  up  by  those  humble, 
but  industrious  wights,  who  ply  along  the  shores  of  literature, 
we  find  the  following  sage  ordinance  of  Charondas,  the  Locrian 
legislator.  Anxious  to  preserve  the  ancient  laws  of  the  state 
from  the  additions  and  improvements  of  profound  "country 
members,"  or  officious  candidates  for  popmarity,  he  ordained 
that  whoever  proposed  a  new  law,  should  do  it  with  a  halter 
about  his  neck ;  so  that  in  case  his  proposition  was  rejected, 
they  just  hung  him  up— and  there  the  matter  ended. 

This  salutary  institution  had  such  an  effect,  that  for  more 
than  two  hundred  years  there  was  only  one  trifling  alteration 
in  the  criminal  code — and  the  whole  race  of  lawyers  starved  to 
death  for  want  of  employment.  The  consequence  ot  this  was, 
that  the  Locrians,  being  unprotected  by  an  overwhelming  load 
of  excellent  laws,  and  undefended  by  a  standing  army  of  petti- 
foggers and  sheriff's  officers,  lived  very  lovingly  together,  and 
were  such  a  happy  people,  that  they  scarce  make  any  figure 
throughout  the  whole  Grecian  history — for  it  is  well  known 
that  none  but  your  unlucky,  quarrelsome,  rantipole  nations 
make  any  noise  in  the  world. 

Well  would  it  have  been  for  William  the  Testy,  had  he 
haply,  in  the  course  of  his  "universal  acquirements,"  stumbled 
upon  this  precaution  of  the  good  Charondas.  On  the  contrary, 
he  conceived  that  the  true  policy  of  a  legislator  was  to  mul- 
tiply laws,  and  thus  secure  the  property,  the  persons,  and  the 
morals  of  the  people,  by  surrounding  them  in  a  manner  with 
men-traps  and  spring-guns,  and  besetting  even  the  sweet 
sequestered  walks  of  private  hfe  with  quickset  hedges,  so  that 
a  man  could  scarcely  turn,  without  the  risk  of  encounteiing 
some  of  these  pestiferous  protectors.  Thus  was  he  continually 
coining  petty  laws  for  every  petty  offence  that  occurred,  until 
in  time  they  became  too  numerous  to  be  remembered,  and  re- 
caained  like  those  of.  certaia  modem  legislators,  mere  dead- 


156 


A  IIISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


letters  —  revived  occasionally  for  the  purpose  of  individual 
oppression,  or  to  entrap  ignorant  offenders. 

Petty  courts  consequently  began  to  appear,  where  the  law 
was  administered  v/ith  nearly  as  much  wisdom  and  impar- 
tiality as  in  those  august  tribunals,  the  alderman's  and  jus- 
tice's courts  01  the  present  day.  The  plaintiff  was  generally 
favoured,  as  being  a  customer  and  briaging  business  to  the 
shop ;  the  offences  of  the  rich  were  discreetly  winked  at — for 
fear  of  hurting  the  feelings  of  theii'  friends;  —  but  it  could 
never  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  the  vigUant  burgomasters,  that 
they  suffered  ^^ce  to  skiilk  unpunished,  under  the  disgraceful 
rags  of  poverty. 

About  this  time  may  we  date  the  first  introduction  of  capital 
punishments— -a  goodly  gallows  being  erected  on  the  water- 
side, about  where  Whitehall  stairs  are  at  present,  a  Httle  to 
the  east  of  the  Battery.  Hard  by  also  was  erected  another 
gibbet  of  a  very  strange,  uncouth,  and  luunatchable  descrip- 
tion, but  on  which  the  ingenious  William  Kieft  valued  himselt 
not  a  Uttle,  being  a  punishment  entirely  of  his  own  invention. 

It  was  for  loftiaess  of  altitude  not  a  whit  inferior  to  that  of 
Haman,  so  renowned  in  Bible  history ;  but  the  marvel  of  the 
contrivance  was,  that  the  culprit,  instead  of  being  suspended 
by  the  neck,  according  to  venerable  custom,  was  hoisted  by 
the  waistband,  and  was  kept  for  an  hour  together  danghng 
£ind  sprawling  between  heaven  and  earth — to  the  infinite  en- 
tertaioment  and  doubtless  great  edification  of  the  multitude  of 
respectable  citizens,  who  usually  attend  upon  exhibitions  of 
the  kind. 

It  is  incredible  how  the  little  governor  chuckled  at  beholding, 
caitiff  vagrants  and  sturdy  beggars  thus  swinging  by  the  crup- 
per, and  cutting  antic  gambols  in  the  air.  He  had  a  thousand 
pleasantries  and  mirthful  conceits  to  utter  upon  these  occa- 
sions. He  called  them  his  dandle-hons — his  Tvdld-f  owl — his  high- 
flyers—his spread-eagles— his  goshawks— his  scarecrows,  and 
finally  his  galloivs-birds,  which  ingenious  appellation,  though 
originally  confined  to  worthies  who  had  taken  the  air  in  this 
strange  manner,  has  since  grown  to  be  a  cant  name  given  to 
all  candidates  for  legal  elevation.  This  punishment,  moreover, 
if  we  may  credit  the  assertions  of  certain  grave  etymologists, 
gave  the  first  hint  for  a  kind  of  harnessing,  or  strapping,  by 
which  our  forefathei-s  braced  up  their  multifarious  breeches, 
and  which  has  of  late  years  been  revived,  and  continues  to  be 
worn  at  the  present  day.^ 


A  mSTORT  OF  NEW-TORE. 


157 


Such  were  the  admirable  improvements  of  William  Kieft  in 
criminal  law— nor  was  his  civil  code  less  a  matter  of  wonder- 
ment ;  and  much  does  it  grieve  me  that  the  limits  of  my  work 
will  not  suffer  me  to  expatiate  on  both,  with  the  prolixity  they 
deserve.  Let  it  suffice  then  to  say,  that  in  a  little  while  the 
blessings  of  innimierable  laws  became  notoriously  apparent. 
It  w^as  soon  found  necessary  to  have  a  certain  class  of  men  to 
expound  and  confound  them— divers  pettifoggers  accordingly 
made  their  appearance,  under  whose  protecting  care  the  com- 
munity was  soon  set  together  by  the  eai*s. 

I  would  not  here  be  thought  to  insinuate  any  thing  deroga- 
tory to  the  profession  of  the  law,  or  to  its  dignified  members. 
Well  am  I  aware,  that  we  have  in  this  ancient  city  innumer- 
able worthy  gentlemen  who  have  embraced  that  honourable 
order,  not  for  the  sordid  love  of  filthy  lucre,  nor  the  selfish 
cravings  of  renown,  but  through  no  other  motives  but  a  fer- 
vent zeal  for  the  correct  administration  of  justice,  and  a  gen- 
erous and  disinterested  devotion  to  the  interests  of  their  fel- 
low-citizens !— Sooner  woidd  I  throw  this  trusty  pen  into  the 
flames,  and  cork  up  my  ink-bottle  for  ever,  than  infringe  even 
for  a  nail's  breadth  upon  the  dignity  of  this  truly  benevolent 
class  of  citizens— on  the  contrary,  I  allude  solely  to  that  crew 
of  caitiff  scouts,  Avho,  in  these  latter  days  of  evil,  have  become 
60  numerous— who  infest  the  skirts  of  the  profession,  as  did 
the  recreant  Cornish  knights  the  honourable  order  of  chivalry 
—who,  under  its  auspices,  commit  their  depredations  on  so- 
ciety—who thrive  by  quibbles,  quirks,  and  chicanery,  and, 
hke  vermin,  swarm  most  where  there  is  most  corruption. 

Nothing  so  soon  awakens  the  malevolent  passions,  as  the 
facility  of  gratification.  The  comets  of  law  would  never  be  so 
constantly  crowded  ^vith  petty,  vexatious,  and  disgraceful 
suits,  were  it  not  for  the  herds  of  pettifogging  lawyers  that  in- 
fest them.  These  tamper  with  the  passions  of  the  lower  and 
more  ignorant  classes ;  who,  as  if  poverty  were  not  a  sufficient 
misery  in  itself,  are  always  ready  to  heighten  it  by  the  bitter- 
ness of  litigation.  They  are  in  law  what  quacks  are  in  medi- 
cine—exciting the  malady  for  the  purpose  of  profiting  by  the 
cure,  and  retarding  the  cure  for  the  purpose  of  augmenting 
the  fees.  Where  one  destroys  the  constitution,  the  other  im- 
poverishes the  purse ;  and  it  may  hkewise  be  observed,  that  a 
patient,  who  has  once  been  under  the  hands  of  a  quack,  is 
ever  after  dabbUng  in  drugs,  and  poisoning  himself  with,  in- 
f aUible  remedies ;  and  an  ignorant  man,  who  has  once  meddled 


158 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


vath  the  law  under  the  auspices  of  one  of  these  empirics,  is 
for  ever  after  embroiling  himself  with  his  neighbours,  and  im- 
poverishing himself  with  successful  law-suits.  —  My  readers 
will  excuse  this  digression,  into  wliich  I  have  been  unwarily 
betrayed;  but  I  could  not  avoid  giving  a  cool,  unprejudiced 
account  of  an  abomination  too  prevalent  in  this  excellent  city, 
and  with  the  effects  of  which  I  am  unluckily  acquainted  to  my 
cost,  having  been  nearly  ruined  by  a  law-suit,  which  was  un- 
justly decided  against  me — and  my  ruin  having  been  com- 
pleted by  another,  which  was  decided  in  my  favour. 

It  has  been  remarked  by  the  observant  writer  of  the  Stuyve- 
sant  manuscript,  that  under  the  administration  of  Wilhehnus 
Kieft  the  disposition  of  the  inhabitants  of  New-Amsterdam 
experienced  an  essential  change,  so  that  they  became  very 
meddlesome  and  factious.  The  constant  exacerbations  of  tem- 
per into  which  the  httle  governor  wa,s  thrown  by  the  maraud- 
ings on  his  frontiers,  and  his  unfortunate  propensity  to  experi- 
ment and  innovation,  occasioned  him  to  keep  his  council  in  a 
continual  worry — and  the  council  being,  to  the  people  at  large, 
what  yest  or  leaven  is  to  a  batch,  they  threw  the  whole  com- 
munity into  a  ferment — and  the  people  at  large  being  to  the 
city  what  the  mind  is  to  the  body,  the  mihappy  commotions 
they  underwent  operated  most  disastrously  upon  New- Amster- 
dam— insomuch,  that  in  certain  of  their  paroxysms  of  conster- 
nation and  perplexity,  they  begat  several  of  the  most  crooked, 
distorted,  and  abominable  sti^eets,  lanes,  and  alleys,  with  which 
this  metropolis  is  disfigured. 

But  the  worst  of  the  matter  was,  that  just  about  this  time 
the  mob,  since  called  the  sovereign  people,  like  Balaam's  ass, 
began  to  grow  more  enhghtened  than  its  rider,  and  exhibited  a 
strange  desire  of  governing  itself.  This  was  another  effect  of 
the  "universal  acquirements"  of  William  the  Testy.  In  some 
of  his  pestilent  researches  among  the  rubbish  of  antiquity,  he 
was  struck  with  admiration  at  the  institution  of  pubhc  tables 
among  the  Lacedaemonians,  where  they  discussed  topics  of  a 
general  and  interesting  nature— at  the  schools  of  the  pliiloso- 
phers,  where  they  engaged  in  profound  disputes  upon  pohtics 
and  morals — where  gray -beards  were  taught  the  rudiments  of 
wisdom,  and  youths  learned  to  become  little  men  before  they 
were  boys.  "  There  is  nothing,"  said  the  ingenious  Eieft,  shut- 
ting up  the  book,  "tbere  is  nothing  more  essential  to  the  well- 
management  of  a  country,  than  education  among  the  people : 
the  basis  of  a  good  government  should  be  laid  in  the  pubhc 


A  JJISTOEF  OF  NEW-YORK. 


159 


mind-"— Now  this  was  true  enough,  but  it  was  ever  the  way- 
ward fate  of  William  the  Testy,  that  when  he  thought  right,  he 
was  sure  to  go  to  work  wrong.  In  the  present  instance,  he 
could  scarcely  eat  or  sleep  until  he  had  set  on  foot  brawling 
debating  societies  among  the  simple  citizens  of  New- Amster- 
dam. This  was  the  one  thing  Avanting  to  complete  his  confu- 
sion. The  honest  Dutch  burghers,  though  in  truth  but  little* 
given  to  argument  or  wordy  altercation,  yet  by  dint  of  meet- 
ing often  together,  fuddling  themselves  with  strong  drink,  be- 
clouding their  brains  with  tobacco-smoke,  and  Hstening  to  the 
harangues  of  some  half-a-dozen  oracles,  soon  became  exceed- 
ingly wise,  and— as  is  always  the  case  where  the  mob  is  pohti- 
cally  enhghtened— exceedingly  discontented.  They  found  out, 
with  wonderful  quickness  of  discernment,  the  fearful  error  in 
which  they  had  indulged,  in  fancying  themselves  the  happiest 
people  in  creation— and  were  fortunately  convinced,  that,  all 
circumstances  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  they  were  a 
very  unhappy,  deluded,  and  consequently  mined  people. 

In  a  short  time,  the  quidnuncs  of  New- Amsterdam  formed 
themselves  into  sage  juntos  of  political  croakers,  who  daily  met 
together  to  groan  over  political  affairs,  and  make  themselves 
miserable ;  thronging  to  these  unhappy  assemblages,  with  the 
same  eagerness  that  zealots  have  in  all  ages  abandoned  the 
milder  and  more  peaceful  paths  of  religion,  to  crowd  to  the 
howling  convocations  of  fanaticism.  We  are  naturallj"  prone 
to  discontent,  and  avaricious  after  imaginary  causes  of  lamen- 
tation—like lubberly  monks,  w^e  belabour  our  own  shoulders, 
and  seem  to  take  a  vast  satisfaction  in  the  music  of  our  own 
groans.  Nor  is  this  said  for  the  sake  of  paradox ;  daily  experi- 
ence shows  the  truth  of  these  observations.  It  is  almost  im- 
possible to  elevate  the  spirits  of  a  man  groaning  under  ideal 
calamities;  but  nothing  is  more  easy  than  to  render  him 
wretched,  though  on  the  pinnacle  of  felicity ;  as  it  is  a  Hercu- 
lean task  to  hoist  a  man  to  the  top  of  a  steeple,  though  the 
merest  child  can  topple  him  off  thence. 

In  the  sage  assemblages  I  have  noticed,  the  reader  will  at 
once  perceive  the  faint  germs  of  those  sapient  convocations 
called  popular  meetings,  prevalent  at  our  day.  Thither  re- 
soi*ted  all  those  idlers  and  "squires  of  low  degree,"  who,  like 
rags,  hang  loose  upon  the  back  of  society,  and  are  ready  to  be 
blown  away  by  every  wind  of  doctrine.  Cobblers  abandoned 
their  stalls,  and  hastened  thither  to  give  lessons  on  political 
economy— blacksmiths  left  their  handicraft  and  suffered  their 


160 


A  IlISTOIir  OF  NEW- YORK. 


own  fires  to  go  out,  while  they  blew  the  bellows  and  stirred  up 
the  fire  of  faction ;  and  even  tailors,  though  but  the  shreds  and 
patches,  the  ninth  parts  of  humanity,  neglected  their  own 
measures  to  attend  to  the  measures  of  government.— Nothing 
W9,s  wanting  but  half-a-dozen  ne  wspapers  and  patriotic  editors, 
to  have  completed  this  public  illumination,  and  to  have  thrown 
the  whole  province  in  an  uproar ! 

I  should  not  forget  to  mention,  that  these  popular  meetings 
were  held  at  a  noted  tavern;  for  houses  of  that  description 
have  always  been  found  the  most  fostering  nurseries  of  poU- 
tics ;  abounding  with  those  genial  streams  which  give  strength 
and  sustenance  to  faction.  We  are  told  that  the  ancient  Ger- 
mans had  an  admirable  mode  of  treating  any  question  of  im- 
portance ;  they  first  dehberated  upon  it  when  drunk,  and  after- 
wards reconsidered  it  when  sober.  The  shrewder  mobs  of 
America,  who  dislike  having  two  minds  upon  a  subject,  both 
determine  and  act  upon  it  drunk ;  by  wliich  means  a  world  of 
cold  and  tedious  speculation  is  dispensed  with — and  as  it  is 
universally  allowed,  that  when  a  man  is  drunk  he  sees  double, 
it  follows  most  conclusively  that  he  sees  twice  as  well  as  his 
sober  neighbours. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  GREAT  PIPE  PLOT — AND  OF  THE  DOLOROUS  PERPLEXI- 
TIES INTO  WHICH  WILLIAM  THE  TESTY  WAS  THROWN,  BY  REA- 
SON OF  HIS  HAVING  ENLIGHTENED  THE  MULTITUDE. 

WiLHELiMUS  KiEFT,  as  has  already  been  made  manifest,  was 
a  great  legislator  upon  a  small  scale.  He  was  of  an  active,  or 
rather  a  busy  mind ;  that  is  to  say,  his  was  one  of  those  small, 
but  brisk  minds,  which  make  up  by  bustle  and  constant  mo- 
tion for  the  want  of  great  scope  and  power.  He  had,  when 
^  quite  a  youngling,  been  impressed  with  the  advice  of  Solomon, 

Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider  her  ways  and  be  wise 
in  conformity  to  which,  he  had  ever  been  of  a  restless,  ant-like 
turn,  worrying  hither  and  thither,  busying  himself  about  little 
matters,  with  an  air  of  great  importance  and  anxiety— laying 
up  wisdom  by  the  morsel,  and  often  toiling  and  puffing  at  a 
grain  of  mustard-seed,  under  the  full  conviction  that  he  was 
moving  a  mountain. 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


161 


Thus  we  are  told,  that  once  upon  a  time,  in  one  of  his  fits  of 
mental  bustle,  which  he  termed  deliberation,  he  framed  an  un- 
lucky lav/5  to  prohibit  the  universal  practice  of  smoking.  This 
he  proved,  by  mathematical  demonstration,  to  be,  not  merely 
a  heavy  tax  on  the  public  pocket,  but  an  incredible  consumer 
of  time,  a  great  encourager  of  idleness,  and,  of  course,  a  deadly 
bane  to  the  prosperity  and  morals  of  the  people.  Ill-fated 
Kieft!  had  he  lived  in  this  enlightened  and  libel-loving  age, 
and  attempted  to  subvert  the  inestimable  liberty  of  the  press, 
he  could  not  have  struck  more  closely  on  the  sensibilities  of  the 
million. 

The  populace  were  in  as  violent  a  turmoil  as  the  constitutional 
gravity  of  their  deportment  would  permit-  a  mob  of  factious 
citizens  had  even  the  hardihood  to  assemble  before  the  gov- 
ernor's house,  where,  setting  themselves  r'^solutely  down,  like 
a  besieging  army  before  a  fortress,  they  one  and  all  fell  to 
smoking  with  a  determined  perseverance,  that  seemed  as 
though  it  were  their  intention  to  smoke  him  into  terras.  The 
testy  William  issued  out  of  his  mansion  like  a  wrathful  spider, 
and  demanded  to  know  the  cause  of  this  seditious  assemblage, 
and  this  lawless  fumigation;  to  which  these  sturdy  rioters 
made  no  other  reply,  than  to  loU  back  phlegmaticaUy  in  their 
seats,  and  pulf  away  with  redoubled  f  ary ;  whereby  they  raised 
such  a  murky  cloud,  that  the  governor  was  fain  to  take  refuge 
in  the  interior  of  his  castle. 

The  governor  immediatelj^  perceived  the  object  of  this  un- 
usual tumult,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  suppress  a 
practice,  which,  by  long  indulgence,  had  become  a  second 
nature.  And  here  I  would  obcerve,  partly  to  explain  why  I 
have  so  often  made  mention  of  this  practice  in  my  history,  that 
it  was  inseparably  connected  with  all  the  affairs,  both  public 
and  private,  of  our  revered  ancestors.  The  pipe,  in  fact,  was 
never  from  the  mouth  of  the  true-born  Nederlander.  It  was 
his  companion  in  sohtude,  the  relaxation  of  his  gayer  hours, 
his  counsellor,  his  consoler,  his  joy,  his  pride ;  in  a  word,  he 
seemed  to  think  and  breathe  through  his  pipe. 

When  William  the  Testy  bethought  himself  of  all  these 
matters,  which  he  certainly  did,  although  a  Uttle  too  late,  he 
came  to  a  compromise  with  the  besieging  multitude.  The  re- 
sult was,  that  though  he  continued  to  permit  the  custom  of 
smoking,  yet  did  he  abohsh  the  fair  long  pipes  which  were 
used  in  the  days  of  Wouter  Van  TwUler,  denoting  ease,  tran- 
quiUity,  and  sobiiety  of  deportment ;  and,  in  place  thereof,  did 


162 


A  I  US  roil  Y  OF  JSEW-YOllK. 


introduce  little,  captious,  short  pipes,  two  inches  in  length; 
which,  he  observed,  could  be  stuck  in  one  comer  of  the  mouth, 
or  twisted  in  the  hat-band,  and  would  not  be  in  the  way  of 
business.  By  this  the  multitude  seemed  somewhat  appeased, 
and  dispersed  to  their  habitations.  Thus  ended  this  alarming 
insurrection,  which  was  long  known  by  the  name  of  the  pipe 
plot,  and  which,  it  has  been  somewhat  quaintly  observed,  did 
end,  like  most  other  plots,  seditions,  and  conspiracies,  in  mere 
smoke. 

But  mark,  oh  reader !  the  deplorable  consequences  that  dia 
afterwards  result.  The  smoke  of  these  villainous  little  pipes, 
continually  ascending  in  a  cloud  about  the  nose,  penetrated 
into,  and  befogged  the  cerebellum,  dried  up  all  the  kindly 
moisture  of  the  brain,  and  rendered  the  people  that  used  them 
as  vapourish  and  testy  as  their  renowned  Httle  governor— nay, 
what  is  more,  from  a  goodly,  burly  race  of  folk,  they  became, 
like  our  worthy  Dutch  farmers,  who  smoke  short  pipes,  a 
lantern-jawed,  smoke-dried,  leathern-hided  race  of  men. 

Nor  was  this  all,  for  from  hence  may  we  date  the  rise  of 
parties  in  this  province.  Certain  of  the  more  wealthy  and 
important  burghers  adhering  to  the  ancient  fashion,  formed  a 
kind  of  aristocracy,  which  went  by  the  appellation  of  the  Lo7ig 
Pipes — while  the  lower  orders,  submitting  to  the  innovation, 
which  they  found  to  be  more  convenient  in  their  handicraft 
employments,  and  to  leave  them  more  liberty  of  action,  were 
branded  with  the  plebeian  name  of  Short  Pipes.  A  third 
party  hkewise  sprang  up,  differing  from  both  the  other, 
headed  by  the  descendants  of  the  famous  Eobert  Chewit,  the 
companion  of  the  great  Hudson.  These  entirely  discarded  the 
use  of  pipes,  and  took  to  chewing  tobacco,  and  hence  they 
were  called  Quids.  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  this  last  appel- 
lation has  since  come  to  be  invariably  applied  to  those  mongrel 
or  third  parties,  that  will  sometimes  spring  up  between  two 
great  contending  parties,  as  a  mule  is  produced  between  a 
horse  and  an  ass. 

And  here  I  would  remark  the  great  benefit  of  these  party 
distinctions,  by  which  the  people  at  large  are  saved  the  vast 
trouble  of  thinking.  Hesiod  divides  mankind  into  three 
classes :  those  who  think  for  themselves,  those  who  let  others 
think  for  them,  and  those  who  will  neither  do  one  nor  the 
other.  The  second  class,  however,  comprises  the  great  mass 
of  society ;  and  hence  is  the  origin  of  party,  by  which  is  meant 
a  large  body  of  people,  some  few  of  whom  think,  and  all  the 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-ToRK. 


163 


rest  talk.  The  former,  who  are  called  the  leaders,  marshal  out 
and  discipline  the  latter,  teaching  them  what  they  must  ap- 
prove— what  they  must  hoot  at — what  they  must  say — whom 
they  must  support— but,  above  all,  whom  they  must  hate— 
for  no  man  can  be  a  right  good  partisian,  unless  he  be  a  deter- 
mined and  thorough-going  hater. 

But  when  the  sovereign  people  are  thus  properly  broken  to 
the  harness,  yoked,  curbed,  and  reined,  it  is  delectable  to  see 
with  what  docility  and  harmony  they  jog  onward,  through 
mud  and  mire,  at  the  ^vill  of  their  drivers,  dragging  the  dirt- 
carts  of  faction  at  their  heels.  How  many  a  patriotic  member 
of  Congress  have  I  seen,  who  would  never  have  known  how 
to  make  up  his  mind  on  any  question,  and  might  have  run  a 
great  risk  of  voting  right,  by  mere  accident,  had  he  not  had 
others  to  think  for  him,  and  a  file-leader  to  vote  after ! 

Thus  then  the  enlightened  inhabitants  of  the  Manhattoes, 
being  divided  into  parties,  were  enabled  to  organize  dissension, 
and  to  oppose  and  hate  one  another  more  accurately.  And 
now  the  great  business  of  politics  went  bravely  on — the 
parties  assembling  in  separate  beer-houses,  and  smoking  at  each 
other  with  implacable  animosity,  to  the  great  support  of  the 
state,  and  emolument  of  the  tavern-keepers.  Some,  indeed, 
who  were  more  zealous  than  the  rest,  went  farther,  and  began 
'  to  bespatter  one  another  with  numerous  very  hard  names  and 
scandalous  httle  words,  to  be  found  in  the  Dutch  language; 
every  partisan  behoving  religiously  that  he  was  serving  his 
country,  when  he  traduced  the  character  or  impoverished  the 
pocket  of  a  political  advei-sary.  But,  however  they  might 
differ  between  themselves,  all  parties  agreed  on  one  point,  to 
cavil  at  and  condenm  every  measure  of  government,  whether 
right  or  wTong ;  for  as  the  governor  was  by  his  station  inde- 
pendent of  their  power,  and  was  not  elected  by  their  choice, 
and  as  he  had  not  decided  in  favour  of  either  faction,  neither 
of  them  was  interested  in  his  success,  or  in  the  prosperity  of 
the  country,  while  under  his  administration. 

"  Unhappy  William  Kieft!"  exclaims  the  sage  writer  of  the 
Stuyvesant  manuscript — "doomed  to  contend  with  enemies 
too  knoAving  to  be  entrapped,  and  to  reign  over  a  people  too 
wise  to  be  governed  !"  All  his  expeditions  against  his  enemies 
were  baffled  and  set  at  nought,  and  all  his  measures  for  the 
public  safety  were  cavilled  at  by  the  people.  Did  he  propose 
levying  an  efficient  body  of  troops  for  internal  defence— the 
mob,  that  is  to  say  those  vagabond  members  of  the  community 


164 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


who  have  nothing  to  lose,  immediately  took  the  alarm,  voci- 
ferated that  their  interests  were  in  dsmger — that  a  standing 
army  was  a  legion  of  moths,  preying  on  the  pockets  of  society ; 
a  rod  of  iron  m  the  hands  of  government ;  and  that  a  govern- 
ment with  a  military  force  at  its  command  would  inevitably 
swell  into  a  despotism.  Did  he,  as  was  but  too  commonly  the 
case,  defer  preparation  imtil  the  moment  of  emergency,  and 
then  hastily  collect  a  handful  of  un.disciplined  vagrants — the 
measure  was  hooted  at  as  feeble  and  inadequate,  as  trifling 
with  the  public  dignity  and  safety,  and  as  lavishing  the  pubhc 
fimds  on  impotent  enterprises.  Did  he  resort  to  the  economic 
measure  of  proclamation— he  was  laughed  at  by  the  Yankees ; 
did  he  back  it  by  non-intercourse— it  was  evaded  and  counter- 
acted by  his  own  subjects.  Whichever  way  he  turned  himself, 
he  was  beleaguered  and  distracted  by  petitions  of  ' '  numerous 
and  respectable  meetings,"  consisting  of  some  half-a-dozen 
brawling  pot-house  politicians — all  of  which  he  read,  and,  what 
is  worse — all  of  which  he  attended  to.  The  consequence  was, 
that  by  incessantly  changing  his  measiu-es,  he  gave  none  of  them 
a  fail*  trial ;  and  by  Hstening  to  the  clamom's  of  the  mob,  and 
endeavouring  to  do  every  thing,  he,  in  sober  truth,  did  nothing. 

I  would  not  have  it  supposed,  however,  that  he  took  all  these 
memorials  and  interferences  good-naturedly,  for  such  an  idea 
would  do  injustice  to  his  vaHant  spirit;  on  the  contraiy,  he 
never  received  a  piece  of  advice  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life, 
without  first  getting  into  a  passion  with  the  giver.  But  I  have 
ever  observed  that  your  passionate  Httle  men,  like  smaU  boats 
with  large  sails,  are  the  easiest  upset  or  blown  out  of  their 
course;  and  this  is  demonstrated  by  Governor  Kieft,  who, 
though  in  temperament  as  hot  as  an  old  radish,  and  with  a 
mind,  the  territory  of  which  was  subjected  to  perpetual  wliirl- 
wLnds  and  tornadoes,  yet  never  failed  to  be  carried  away  by 
the  last  piece  of  advice  that  was  blown  into  his  ear.  Lucky 
was  it  for  him  that  his  power  was  not  dependent  upon  the 
greasy  multitude,  and  that  as  yet  the  populace  did  not  possess 
the  important  privilege  of  nominating  their  chief  magistrate ! 
They,  however,  did  their  best  to  help  along  public  affairs ;  pes- 
tering their  governor  incessantly,  by  goading  him  on  with 
harangues  and  petitions,  and  then  thwarting  his  fiery  spirit 
with  reproaches  and  memorials,  like  Sunday  jocldes  manag- 
ing an  unlucky  devil  of  a  hack-horse — so  that  Wilhelmus  Kieft 
may  be  said  to  have  been  kept  either  on  a  wony  or  a  hand- 
galloii  throughout  the  whole  of  his  administration. 


A  HISTORY  OJ^'  NEW-YORK 


165 


CHAPTER  YII. 

CONTAINING  DIVERS  FEARFUL  ACCOUNTS  OF  BORDER  WARS,  AND 
THE  FLAGRANT  OUTRAGES  OF  THE  MOSSTROOPERS  OF  CONNECTI- 
CUT— WITH  THE  RISE  OF  THE  GREAT  AMPHYCTIONIC  COUNCIL 
OF  THE  EAST,  AND  THE  DECLINE  OF  WILLIAM  THE  TESTY. 

It  was  asserted  by  the  wise  men  of  ancient  times,  who  were 
intimately  acquainted  with  these  matters,  that  at  the  g?tte  of 
Jupiter's  palace  lay  two  huge  tuns,  the  one  filled  mth  bless- 
ings, the  other  with  misfortunes — and  it  verily  seems  as  if  the 
latter  had  been  completely  overturned  and  left  to  deluge  the 
unlucky  pro^^Lnce  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts.  Among  the  many 
internal  and  external  causes  of  irritation,  the  incessant  irrup- 
tions of  the  Yankees  upon  his  frontiers  were  contmually  add- 
ing fuel  to  the  inflaramable  temper  of  Wilham  the  Testy. 
Niunerous  accounts  of  these  molestations  may  still  be  found 
among  the  records  of  the  times ;  for  the  commanders  on  the 
frontiers  were  especially  careful  to  evince  their  vigilance  and 
zeal  by  striving  who  should  send  home  the  most  frequent  and 
voluminous  budgets  of  complaints — as  your  faithful  servant  is 
eternally  runnmg  with  complaints  to  the  parlour,  of  the  petty 
squabbles  and  misdemeanours  of  the  kitchen. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  insinuate,  however,  that  our  worthy 
ancestors  indulged  in  groundless  alarms ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
were  daily  suffering  a  repetition  of  cruel  wrong's,*  not  one  of 
which  but  was  a  sufficient  reason,  according  to  the  maxims  of 
national  dignity  and  honour,  for  throwing  the  whole  universe 
into  hostihty  and  confusion. 


*  From  among  a  multitude  of  bitter  grievances  still  on  record,  I  select  a  few  of 
the  most  atrocious,  and  leave  my  readers  to  judge  if  our  ancestors  were  not  justifi- 
able in  getting  into  a  very  valiant  passion  on  the  occasion. 

24  June,  1641.  Some  of  Hartford  have  taken  a  hogg  out  of  the  vlact  or  com- 
mon, and  shut  it  up  out  of  meer  hate  or  other  prejudice,  causing  it  to  starve  for 
hunger  in  the  stye  I" 

"26  July.  The  foremencioned  English  did  again  drive  the  Companie's  hoggs  out 
of  the  vlact  of  Sicojoke  into  Hartford;  contending  daily  with  reproaches,  blows, 
beating  the  people  with  all  disgrace  that  they  coidd  imagine." 

"May  20,  1642.  The  English  of  Hartford  have  violently  cut  loose  a  horse  of  the 
honoured  Companie's,  that  stood  bound  upon  the  common  or  vlact." 

"  May  9,  1643.  The  Companie's  horses  pastured  upon  the  Companie's  ground, 
were  driven  away  by  them  of  Connecticott  or  Hartford,  and  the  herdsmen  lustily 
beaten  with  hatchets  and  sticks." 

"  16.  Again  they  sold  a  young  hogg  belonging  to  the  Compauie,  which  piggs  had 
pastured  on  the  Companie's  land."— ifaz.  Coi.  S^a^e  Pa^ersl 


166 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


Oh,  ye  powers  1  into  what  indignation  did  every  one  of  these 
outrages  throw  the  philosophic  William  1  letter  after  letter, 
protest  after  protest,  proclamation  after  proclamation,  bad 
Latin,  worse  English,  and  hideous  Low  Dutch  were  exhausted 
in  vain  upon  the  inexorable  Yankees ;  and  the  four-and- twenty 
letters  of  the  alphabet,  Avhich,  excepting  his  champion,  the 
sturdy  trumpeter  Van  Corlear,  composed  the  only  standing 
a,rmy  he  had  at  liis  command,  were  never  off  duty  throughout 
the  whole  of  his  administration.  Nor  was  Antony  the  trum- 
peter a  whit  behind  his  patron  in  fiery  zeal ;  but  hke  a  faithful 
champion  of  the  public  safety,  on  the  arrival  of  every  fresh 
article  of  news,  he  was  sure  to  sound  his  trumpet  from  the 
ramparts,  with  most  disastrous  notes,  tln^owing  the  people 
into  violent  alarms,  and  disturbing  their  rest  at  all  times  and 
seasons — ^which  caused  him  to  be  held  in  very  great  regard, 
the  public  pampering  and  rewarding  him,  as  we  do  brawhng 
editors  for  similar  services. 

I  am  well  awai^e  of  the  perils  that  environ  me  in  this  part  of 
my  history.  While  raking  with  curious  hands,  but  pious 
heart,  among  the  mouldering  remains  of  former  days,  anxious 
to  draw  therefrom  the  honey  of  wisdom,  I  may  fare  somewhat 
hke  that  vahant  worthy,  Samson,  who,  in  meddhng  with  the 
carcass  of  a  dead  lion,  drew  a  swarm  of  bees  about  his  ears. 
Thus,  while  narrating  the  many  misdeeds  of  the  Yanokie  or 
Yankee  tribe,  it  is  ten  chances  to  one  but  I  offend  the  morbid 
sensibilities  of  certain  of  their  unreasonable  descendants,  who 
may  fly  out  and  raise  such  a  buzzing  about  this  unlucky  head 
of  mine,  that  I  shall  need  the  tough  hide  of  an  Achilles  or  an 
Orlando  Furioso  to  protect  me  from  their  stings. 

Should  such  be  the  case,  I  should  deeply  and  sincerely 
lament — not  my  misfortune  in  giving  offence — but  the  wrong- 
headed  perverseness  of  an  ill-natured  generation,  in  taking 
offence  at  anything  I  say.  That  their  ancestors  did  use  my 
ancestors  ill,  is  true,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  it.  I  would, 
with  all  my  heart,  the  fact  were  otherwise;  but  as  I  am 
recording  the  sacred  events  of  history,  I'd  not  bate  one  naU's 
breadth  of  the  honest  truth,  though  I  were  sure  the  whole 
edition  of  my  work  shouid  be  bought  up  and  burnt  by  the 
common  hangman  of  Connecticut.  And  m  sooth,  now  that 
these  testy  gentlemen  have  drawn  me  out,  I  wUl  make  bold 
to  go  farther  and  observe,  that  this  is  one  of  the  grand  pur- 
poses for  which  we  impartial  historians  are  sent  into  the  world 
— to  redress  wrongs  and  render  justice  on  the  heads  of  the 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  TOBK. 


167 


guilty.  So  that,  though  a  powerful  nation  may  wrong  its 
neighbours  with  temporary  impunity,  yet  sooner  or  later  a 
historian  springs  up  who  wreaks  ample  chastisement  on  it  in 
return. 

Thus  these  mosstroopers  of  the  east  little  thought,  I'll  war- 
rant it,  while  they  were  harassing  the  inoffensive  province  of 
Nieuw-Nederlandts,  and  driving  its  unhappy  governor  to  his 
wit's  end,  that  a  liistorian  should  ever  arise  and  give  them 
their  own  with  interest.  Since,  then,  I  am  but  performing  my 
bounden  duty  as  a  historian,  in  avenging  the  wrongs  of  our 
revered  ancestors,  I  shall  make  no  further  apology;  and  in- 
deed, when  it  is  considered  that  I  have  all  these  ancient  bor- 
derers of  the  east  in  my  power,  and  at  the  mercy  of  my  pen,  I 
trust  that  it  will  be  admitted  I  conduct  myself  with  great 
humanity  and  moderation. 

To  resume,  then,  the  course  of  my  history.  Appearances  to 
the  eastward  began  now  to  assume  a  more  formidable  aspect 
than  ever — for  I  would  have  you  note  that  hitherto  the  province 
had  been  chiefly  molested  by  its  immediate  neighbours,  the 
people  of  Connecticut,  particularly  of  Hartford ;  which,  if  we 
may  judge  from  ancient  chronicles,  was  the  stronghold  of 
these  sturdy  mosstroopers,  from  whence  they  saUied  forth,  on 
their  daring  incursions,  carrying  terror  and  devastation  into 
the  barns,  the  hen-roosts,  and  pig-styes  of  our  revered  an- 
cestors. 

Albeit,  about  the  year  1643,  the  people  of  the  east  country, 
inhabiting  the  colonies  of  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  New- 
Plymouth,  and  New-Haven,  gathered  together  into  a  mighty 
conclave,  and  after  buzzing  and  debating  for  many  days,  hke 
a  pohtical  hive  of  bees  in  swarming  time,  at  length  settled 
themselves  into  a  formidable  confederation,  under  the  title  of 
the  United  Colonies  of  New -England.  By  this  union,  they 
pledged  themselves  to  stand  by  one  another  in  all  perils  and 
assaults,  and  to  co-operate  in  all  measures,  offensive  and  de- 
fensive, against  the  surrounding  savages,  among  which  were 
doubtlessly  included  our  honoured  ancestors  of  the  Manhattoes ; 
and  to  give  more  strength  and  system  to  this  confederation,  a 
general  assembly  or  grand  council  was  to  be  annually  held, 
composed  of  representatives  from  each  of  the  provinces. 

On  receiving  accounts  of  this  combination,  Wilhelmus  Kieft 
was  struck  with  consternation,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
whole  life,  forgot  to  bounce,  at  hearing  an  unwelcome  piece  of 
intelligence— which  a  venerable  historian  of  tte  time  observes, 


168 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


was  especially  noticed  among  the  politicians  of  New- Amster- 
dam. The  truth  was,  on  turning  over  in  his  mind  all  that  he 
had  read  at  the  Hague,  about  leagues  and  combinations,  he 
found  that  this  was  an  exact  imitation  of  the  Amphyctionic 
council,  by  which  the  states  of  Greece  were  enabled  to  attain 
to  such  power  and  supremacy,  and  the  very  idea  made  his 
heart  to  quake  for  the  safety  of  his  empii-e  at  the  Manhattoes. 

He  strenuously  insisted  that  the  whole  object  of  this  confed- 
eration was  to  drive  the  Nederlanders  out  of  their  fan*  domains ; 
and  always  flew  into  a  great  rage  if  any  one  presumed  to 
doubt  the  probability  of  his  conjecture.  Nor  was  he  wholly 
unwarranted  in  such  a  suspicion ;  for  at  the  very  first  aimual 
meeting  of  the  grand  council,  held  at  Boston,  (which  governor 
Kieft  denominated  the  Delphos  of  this  truly  classic  league,) 
strong  representations  were  made  against  the  Nederlanders, 
forasmuch  as  that  in  their  dealings  with  the  Indians,  they  car- 
ried on  a  traffic  in  "guns,  powther,  and  shott— a  trade  damna- 
ble and  injurious  to  the  colonists. "  *  Not  but  what  certain  of 
the  Connecticut  traders  did  likewise  dabble  a  little  in  this 
"damnable  traffic"— but  then  they  always  sold  the  Indians 
such  scurvy  gims,  that  they  burst  at  the  first  discharge — and 
consequently  hurt  no  one  but  these  pagan  savages. 

The  rise  of  this  potent  confederacy  was  a  deathblow  to  the 
glory  of  WilHam  the  Testy,  for  from  that  day  forward,  it  was 
remarked  by  many,  he  never  held  up  his  head,  but  appeared 
quite  crestfallen.  His  subsequent  reign,  therefore,  affords  but 
scanty  food  for  the  historic  pen — we  find  the  grand  council  con- 
tinually augmenting  in  power,  and  threatening  to  overwhelm 
the  province  of  Nieuw  -  Nederlandts ;  while  Wilhelmus  Kieft 
kept  constantly  fulminating  proclamations  and  protests,  like 
a  shrewd  sea-captain  firing  off  carronades  and  swivels,  in  order 
to  break  and  disperse  a  waterspout — but  alas !  they  had  no  more 
effect  than  if  they  had  been  so  many  blank  cartridges. 

The  last  document  on  record  of  this  learned,  philosophic,  but 
unfortunate  httle  man,  is  a  long  letter  to  the  council  of  the 
Amphyctions,  wherein,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  he  rails 
at  the  people  of  New-Haven,  or  Red  Hills,  for  their  uncourte- 
ous  contempt  of  his  protest,  levelled  at  them  for  squatting 
within  the  province  of  their  High  Mightinesses.  From  tliis 
letter,  which  is  a  model  of  epistolary  writing,  abounding  with 
pithy  apophthegms  and  classic  figures,  my  limits  will  barely 


HatUt,  KJsii.  istate  Papers. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


169 


allow  me  to  extract  the  following  recondite  passage:— "Cer- 
tainly when  we  heare  the  Inhabitants  of  New-Hartford  com- 
playninge  of  us,  we  seem  to  heare  Esop's  woKe  complayninge 
of  the  lamb,  or  the  admonition  of  the  younge  man,  who  cryed 
out  to  his  mother,  chidemg  with  her  neighboures,  '  Oh  Mother 
revile  her,  lest  she  first  take  up  that  practice  against  you.' 
But  being  taught  by  precedent  passages,  we  received  such  an 
answer  to  our  protest  from  the  inhabitants  of  New-Haven  as 
we  expected;  the  Eagle  always  despiseth  the  Beetle  Fly;  yet 
notwithstanding  we  do  undauntedly  continue  on  our  purpose 
of  pursuing  our  own  right,  by  just  arms  and  righteous  means, 
and  doe  hopemthout  scruple  to  execute  the  express  commands 
of  our  superiors."  *  To  show  that  this  last  sentence  was  not  a 
mere  empty  menace,  he  concluded  his  letter  by  intrepidly  pro- 
testing against  the  whole  council,  as  a  horde  of  squatters  and 
interlopers,  inasmuch  as  they  held  their  meetmg  at  New- 
Haven,  or  the  Red-Hills,  which  he  clauned  as  bemg  within 
the  province  of  the  New-Netherlands. 

Thus  end  the  authenticated  chronicles  of  the  reign  of  Wil- 
liam the  Testy— for  henceforth,  in  the  troubles,  the  perplexi- 
ties, and  the  confusion  of  the  times,  he  seems  to  have  been 
totally  overlooked,  and  to  have  slipped  for  ever  through  the 
fingers  of  scrupulous  history.  Indeed,  for  some  cause  or  other 
which  I  cannot  divine,  there  appears  to  have  been  a  combina- 
tion among  historians  to  sink  his  very  name  into  oblivion,  in 
consequence  of  which  they  have  one  and  all  forborne  even  to 
speak  of  his  exploits.  This  shows  how  important  it  is  for  great 
men  to  cultivate  the  favour  of  the  learned,  if  they  are  am- 
bitious of  honour  and  renown.  "Insult  not  the  dervise,"  said 
a  wise  caliph  to  his  son,  "lest  thou  offend  thine  historian;"  and 
many  a  mighty  man  of  the  olden  time,  had  he  observed  so  ob- 
vious a  maxim,  might  have  escaped  divers  cruel  wipes  of  the 
pen,  which  have  been  drawn  across  his  character. 

It  has  been  a  matter  of  deep  concern  to  me,  that  such  dark- 
ness  and  obscurity  should  hang  over  the  latter  days  of  the 
illustrious  Kieft— for  he  was  a  mighty  and  great  little  man, 
worthy  of  being  utterly  renowned,  seeing  that  he  was  the  first 
potentate  that  introduced  into  this  land  the  art  of  fighting  by 
proclamation,  and  defending  a  country  by  trumpeters  and 
windmills— an  economic  and  humane  mode  of  warfare,  since 
re\dved  with  great  applause,  and  which  promises,  if  it  can  ever 


*  Vide  Haz.  Col.  State  Papers. 


170 


A  ff IS  TOBY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


be  carried  into  full  effect,  to  save  great  trouble  and  treasure, 
and  spare  infinitely  more  bloodshed  than  either  the  discovery 
of  gunpowder,  or  the  invention  of  torpedoes. 

It  is  true,  that  certain  of  the  early  provincial  poets,  of  whom 
there  were  great  numbers  in  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  mysterious  exit  of  William  the  Testy,  have 
fabled,  that  like  Romulus,  he  was  translated  to  the  skies,  and 
forms  a  very  fiery  little  star,  somewhere  on  the  left  claw  of 
the  crab ;  while  others,  equally  fanciful,  declare  that  he  had 
experienced  a  fate  similar  to  that  of  the  good  King  Arthur; 
who,  we  are  assured  by  ancient  bards,  was  carried  away  to 
the  delicious  abodes  of  fairy  land,  where  he  still  exists  in  pris- 
tine worth  and  vigour,  and  will  one  day  or  another  return  to 
restore  the  gallantry,  the  honour,  and  the  immaculate  probity 
which  prevailed  in  the  glorious  days  of  the  Romid  Table.* 

All  these,  however,  are  but  pleasing  fantasies,  the  cobweb 
visions  of  those  di-eaming  varlets,  the  poets,  to  which  I  would 
not  have  my  judicious  reader  attach  any  credibihty.  Neither 
am  I  disposed  to  yield  any  credit  to  the  assertion  of  an  ancient 
and  rather  apocryphal  historian,  who  alleges  that  the  ingen- 
ious Wilhelmus  was  annihilated  by  the  blowing  down  of  one  of 
his  windmills — nor  to  that  of  a  writer  of  later  times,  who 
aflarms  that  he  fell  a  victim  to  a  philosophical  experiment, 
which  he  had  for  many  yeai'^  been  vainly  striving  to 
accomplish ;  having  the  misfortune  to  break  liis  neck  from  the 
garret- window  of  the  stadt-house,  in  an  ineffectual  attempt  to 
catch  swallows,  by  sprinkling  fresh  salt  upon  their  tails. 

The  most  probable  account,  and  to  which  I  am  inclined  to 
give  my  implicit  faith,  is  contained  in  a  very  obscure  tradition, 
which  declares,  that  what  with  the  constant  troubles  on  his 
frontiers — the  incessant  schemings  and  projects  going  on  in  his 
own  pericranium — the  memorials,  petitions,  remonstrances, 
and  sage  pieces  of  advice  from  divers  respectable  meetings  of 
the  sovereign  people— together  with  the  refractory  disposition 
of  his  council,  who  were  sure  to  differ  from  him  on  every  point, 
and  uniformly  to  be  in  the  wrong— all  these,  I  say,  did  eter- 


*  The  old  Welch  bards  believed  that  king  Arthur  was  not  dead,  but  carried  awaie 
by  the  fairies  into  some  pleasant  place,  where  he  shold  remainefor  a  time,  and  then 
retume  againe  and  reigne  in  as  great  authority  as  ever.—Hollinrjshed. 

The  Britons  suppose  that  he  shall  come  yet  and  conquere  all  Britaigne,  for  certes, 
this  is  the  prophicye  of  Merlyn — He  say'd  that  his  deth  shall  be  doubteous;  and 
said  soth,  for  men  thereof  yet  have  doubte  and  shullen  for  ever  more— for  men  wyt 
not  whether  that  he  ly  veth  or  is  dede.— De  Lecic  Chron. 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW- TORE. 


171 


nally  operate  to  keep  his  mind  in  a  kind  of  furnace  heat,  until 
he  at  length  became  as  completely  burnt  out  as  a  Dutch  family- 
pipe  which  hcc  passed  through  three  generations  of  hard 
smokers.  In  this  manner  did  the  choleric  but  magnanimous 
William  the  Testy  undergo  a  kind  of  animal  combustion, 
consuming  away  hke  a  farthing  rush-hght— so  that,  when  grim 
Death  finally  snuffed  him  out,  there  was  scarce  left  enough  of 
him  to  bui-y  1 


172 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


BOOK  V. 

CONTAINING  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  THE  REIGN  01 
PETER  STUYVESANT,  AND  HIS  TROUBLES  WITH 
THE  AMPHYCTIONIC  COUNCIL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  WHICH  THE  DEATH  ,0F  A  GREAT  MAN  IS  SHOWN  TO  BE  NO 
VERY  INCONSOLABLE  MATTER  OF  SORROW — AND  HOW  PETER 
STUYYESANT  ACQUIRED  A  GREAT  NAME  FROM  THE  UNCOMMON 
STRENGTH  OF  HIS  HEAD. 

To  a  profound  philosopher,  like  myself,  who  am  apt  to  see 
clear  through  a  subject,  where  the  penetra.tion  of  ordinary 
people  extends  but  half-way,  there  is  no  fact  more  simple  and 
manifest,  than  that  the  death  of  a  great  man  is  a  matter  of 
very  httle  importance.  Much  ac  we  may  think  of  ourselves, 
and  much  as  we  may  excite  the  empty  plaudits  of  the  million, 
it  is  certain  that  the  greatest  among  us  do  actually  fill  but  an 
exceeding  small  space  in  the  world ;  and  it  is  equally  certain, 
that  even  that  small  space  is  quickly  supphed  when  we  leave  it 
vacant.  "  Of  what  consequence  is  it,"  said  Pliny,  "that  indi- 
viduals appear  or  make  their  exit?  the  world  is  a  theatre 
whose  scenes  and  actors  are  continually  changing."  Never 
did  philosopher  speak  more  correctly ;  and  I  only  wonder  that 
so  wise  a  remark  could  have  existed  so  many  ages,  and 
mankind  not  have  laid  it  more  to  heart.  Sage  follows  on  in 
the  footsteps  of  sage ;  one  hero  just  steps  out  of  his  triumphal 
car  to  make  way  for  the  hero  who  comes  after  him ;  and  of 
the  proudest  monarch  it  is  merely  said,  that — "he  slept  with 
his  fathers,  and  his  successor  reigned  in  his  stead." 

The  world,  to  tell  the  private  truth,  cares  but  little  for  their 
loss,  and  if  left  to  itself  would  soon  forget  to  grieve;  and 
though  a  nation  has  often  been  figuratively  drowned  in  tears 
on  the  death  of  a  great  man,  yet  it  is  ten  chances  to  one  if  an 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


173 


individual  tear  has  been  shed  on  the  occasion,  excepting  from 
the  forlorn  pen  of  some  hungry  author.  It  is  the  historian,  the 
biographer,  and  the  poet,  who  have  the  whole  burden  of  grief 
to  sustain;  who— kind  souls!— hke  undertakers  in  England, 
act  the  part  of  chief  mourners— who  inflate  a  nation  with  sighs 
it  never  heaved,  and  deluge  it  with  tears  it  never  dreamt  of 
shedding.  Thus,  w^hile  the  patriotic  author  is  weeping  and 
howling,  in  prose,  m  blank  verse,  and  in  rhyme,  and  collecting 
the  drops  of  public  sorrow  into  his  volume,  as  into  a  lachrymal 
vase,  it  is  more  than  probable  his  fellow-citizens  are  eating  and 
di-inking,  fiddling  and  dancing,  as  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
bitter  lamentations  made  m  their  name,  as  are  those  men  of 
straw,  Jolm  Doe  and  Richard  Roe,  of  the  plaintiffs  for  whom 
they  are  generously  pleased  on  divers  occasions  to  become 
sureties. 

The  most  glorious  and  praiseworthy  hero  that  ever  desolated 
nations,  might  have  mouldered  into  obhvion  among  the  rub- 
bish of  his  own  monument,  did  not  some  historian  take  him 
into  favour,  and  benevolently  transmit  his  name  to  posterity 
— and  much  as  the  vahant  Wilham  Kieft  worried,  and  bus- 
tled, and  turmoiled,  while  he  had  the  destinies  of  a  whole 
colony  in  his  hand,  I  question  seriously  whether  he  will  not  be 
obliged  to  tliis  authentic  liistory  for  all  his  future  celebrity. 

His  exit  occasioned  no  convulsion  in  the  city  of  New- Amster- 
dam or  its  vicinity:  the  earth  trembled  not,  neither  did  any 
stars  shoot  from  their  spheres— the  heavens  were  not  shrouded 
in  black,  as  poets  would  fain  persuade  us  they  have  been  on 
the  unfortunate  death  of  a  hero — the  rocks  (hard-hearted  var- 
lets !)  melted  not  into  tears,  nor  did  the  trees  hang  their  heads 
in  silent  sorrow ;  and  as  to  the  sun,  he  laid  abed  the  next  night, 
just  as  long,  and  showed  as  jolly  a  face  when  he  arose,  as  he 
ever  did  on  the  same  day  of  the  month  in  any  year,  either  be- 
fore or  since.  The  good  people  of  New-Amsterdam,  one  and 
all,  declared  tliat  he  had  been  a  very  busy,  active,  bustling 
Mttle  governor;  that  he  was  "  the  father  of  his  country" — that 
he  was  "the  noblest  work  of  God" — that  "he  was  a  man,  take 
him  for  all  in  all,  they  ne'er  should  look  upon  his  like  again" — 
together  with  sundry  other  civil  and  affectionate  speeches, 
that  are  regularly  said  on  the  death  of  all  great  men ;  after 
which  they  smoked  their  pipes,  thought  no  more  about  him. 
and  Peter  Stuyvesant  succeeded  to  his  station. 

Peter  Stuyvesant  was  the  last,  and,  like  the  renowned  Wou- 
ter  Van  Twiller,  he  was  also  the  best  of  our  ancient  Dutch 


174 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW  TORK. 


governors:  Wouter  having  surpassed  all  who  preceded  him, 
and  Peter,  or  Piet,  as  he  was  sociably  called  by  the  old  Dutch 
burghers,  who  were  ever  prone  to  familiarize  names,  having 
never  been  equalled  by  any  successor.  He  was,  in  fact,  the 
very  man  fitted  by  Nature  to  retrieve  the  desperate  fortunes 
of  her  beloved  province,  had  not  the  fates,  those  most  potent 
and  unrelenting  of  all  ancient  spinsters,  destined  them  to  inex- 
tricable confusion. 

To  say  merely  that  he  was  a  hero  would  be  doing  him  great 
injustice— he  was  in  truth  a  combination  of  heroes — for  he  was 
of  a  sturdy,  rawbone  make,  like  Ajax  Telamon,  with  a  pair  of 
round  shoulders  that  Hercules  would  have  given  his  hide  for, 
(meaning  his  Hon's  hide,)  when  he  undertook  to  ease  old  Atlas 
of  his  load.  He  was,  moreover,  as  Plutarch  describes  Corio- 
lanus,  not  only  terrible  for  the  force  of  his  arm,  but  hkewise 
of  his  voice,  which  sounded  as  though  it  came  out  of  a  barrel ; 
and  like  the  seK-same  warrior,  he  possessed  a  sovereign  con- 
tempt for  the  sovereign  people,  and  an  iron  aspect,  which  was 
enough  of  itself  to  make  the  very  bowels  of  his  adversaries 
quake  with  terror  and  dismay.  All  this  martial  excellency  of 
appearance  was  inexpressibly  heightened  by  an  accidental  ad- 
vantage, with  which  I  am  surprised  that  neither  Homer  nor 
Virgil  have  graced  any  of  their  heroes.  This  was  nothing  less 
than  a  wooden  leg,  which  was  the  only  prize  he  had  gained,  in 
bravely  fighting  the  battles  of  his  country,  but  of  which  he 
was  so  proud,  that  he  was  often  heard  to  declare  he  valued  it 
more  than  all  his  other  hmbs  put  together ;  indeed,  so  highly 
did  he  esteem  it,  that  he  had  it  gallantly  enchased  and  relieved 
with  silver  devices,  which  caused  it  to  be  related  in  divers  his- 
tories and  legends  that  he  wore  a  silver  leg.* 

Like  that  choleric  warrior,  Achilles,  he  was  somewhat  sub- 
ject to  extempore  bursts  of  passion,  which  were  ofttimes  rather 
unpleasant  to  his  favourites  and  attendants,  whose  perceptions 
he  was  apt  to  quicken,  after  the  manner  of  his  illustrious  imi- 
tator, Peter  the  Great,  by  anointing  their  shoulders  with  his 
walking-staff. 

Though  I  cannot  find  that  he  had  read  "Plato,  or  Ai^stotle, 
or  Hobbes,  or  Bacon,  or  Algernon  Sidney,  or  Tom  Paine,  yet 
did  he  sometimes  manifest  a  shrewdness  and  sagacity  in  his 
measures,  that  one  would  hardly  expect  from  a  man  who  did 
not  know  Greek,  and  had  never  studied  the  ancients.    True  it 


*  See  the  histories  of  Masters  Josselyn  and  Blome. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


175 


is,  and  I  confess  it  with  sorrow,  that  he  had  an  unreasonable 
aversion  to  experiments,  and  was  fond  of  governing  his  pro- 
vince after  the  simplest  manner— but  then  he  'Contrived  to 
keep  it  in  better  order  than  did  the  erudite  Kieft,  though  ho 
had  all  the  philosophers  ancient  and  modern  to  assist  and  per- 
plex him.  I  must  likewise  own  that  he  made  but  very  few 
laws,  but  then  again  he  took  care  that  those  few  were  rigidly 
and  impartially  enforced— and  I  do  not  know  but  justice  on 
the  whole  was  as  well  administered  as  if  there  had  been  vol- 
mnes  of  sage  acts  and  statutes  yearly  made,  and  daily  neg- 
lected and  forgotten. 

He  was,  in  fact,  the  very  reverse  of  his  predecessors,  being 
neither  tranquil  and  inert,  like  Walter  the  Doubter,  nor  rest- 
less and  fidgeting,  hke  WiUiam  the  Testy;  but  a  man,  or 
rather  a  governor,  of  such  uncommon  activity  and  decision  of 
mind  that  he  never  sought  or  accepted  the  advice  of  others ; 
depending  confidently  upon  his  single  head,  as  did  the  heroes 
of  yore  upon  their  single  arms,  to  work  his  way  through  all 
difficulties  and  dangers.  To  tell  the  simple  truth,  he  wanted 
no  other  requisite  for  a  perfect  statesman,  than  to  think  always 
right,  for  no  one  can  deny  that  he  always  acted  as  he  thought ; 
and  if  he  wanted  in  correctness,  he  made  up  for  it  in  persever- 
ance— an  excellent  quality!  since  it  is  surely  more  dignified 
for  a  ruler  to  be  persevering  and  consistent  in  error,  than 
wavering  and  contradictory,  in  endeavouring  to  do  what  is 
right.  This  much  is  certain — and  it  is  a  maxim  worthy  the  at- 
tion  of  all  legislators,  both  great  and  small,  who  stand  shaking 
in  the  wind,  without  knowing  which  way  to  steer — a  ruler  who 
acts  according  to  his  own  will  is  sure  of  pleasing  himself,  while 
he  who  seeks  to  satisfy  the  wishes  and  whims  of  others,  runs 
a  great  risk  of  pleasing  nobody.  The  clock  that  stands  still, 
and  points  steadfastly  in  one  direction,  is  certain  of  being  right 
twice  in  the  four-and-twenty  hours — ^while  others  may  keep 
going  continually,  and  continually  be  going  wrong. 

Nor  did  tliis  magnanimous  virtue  escape  the  discernment  of 
the  good  people  of  Nieuw-Nederlandts ;  on  the  contrary,  so  high 
an  opinion  had  they  of  the  independent  mind  and  vigorous  in- 
tellect of  their  new  governor,  that  they  universally  called  him 
Hardkoppig  Piet,  or  Peter  the  Headstrong— a  great  compli 
ment  to  his  understanding ! 

If  from  all  that  I  have  said  thou  dost  not  gather,  worthy 
reader,  that  Peter  Stuyvesant  was  a  tough,  sturdy,  valiant, 
veather-beaten,  mettlesome,  obstinate,  leathern-sided,  Hon 


376 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOUK. 


hearted,  generous-spirited  old  governor,  either  I  have  written 
to  but  little  purpose,  or  thou  art  very  dull  at  drawing  con- 
clusions. 

This  most  excellent  governor,  whose  character  I  have  thus 
attempted  feebly  to  delinea.te,  commenced  his  administration 
on  the  29th  of  May,  1G47;  a  remarkably  stormy  day,  distin- 
guished in  all  the  almanacs  of  the  time  which  have  come  down 
to  us,  by  the  name  of  Windy  Fy^iday.  As  he  was  very  jealous 
of  his  personal  and  official  dignity,  he  was  inaugurated  into 
office  with  great  ceremony;  the  goodly  oaken  chair  of  the 
renowned  Wouter  Van  Twiller  being  carefully  preserved  for 
such  occasions,  in  like  manner  as  the  chair  and  stone  were 
reverentially  preserved  at  Schone,  in  Scotland,  for  the  corona- 
tion of  the  Caledonian  monarchs. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention,  that  the  tempestuous  state  of 
the  elements,  together  with  its  being  that  unlucky  day  of  the 
week,  termed  "hanging  day,"  did  not  fail  to  excite  much 
grave  speculation  and  divers  very  reasonable  apprehensions 
among  the  more  ancient  and  enlightened  inhabitants;  and 
several  of  the  sager  sex,  who  were  reputed  to  be  not  a  little 
skilled  in  the  mysteries  of  astrology  and  fortune-telling,  did 
declare  outright  that  they  were  omens  of  a  disastrous  admin- 
istration— an  event  that  came  to  be  lamentably  verified,  and 
which  proves,  beyond  dispute,  the  wisdom  of  attending  to 
those  preternatural  intimations  furnished  by  dreams  and  vis- 
ions, the  flying  of  birds,  falling  of  stones,  and  cackling  of  geese, 
on  which  the  sages  and  rulers  of  ancient  times  placed  such 
reliance — or  to  those  shootings  of  stars,  echpses  of  the  moon, 
bowlings  of  dogs,  and  flarings  of  candles,  carefully  noted  and 
interpreted  by  the  oracular  sybils  of  our  day;  who,  in  my 
bumble  opinion,  are  the  legitimate  inheritors  and  preservers 
of  the  ancient  science  of  divination.  This  much  is  certain, 
that  governor  Stuyvesant  succeeded  to  the  chair  of  state  at  a 
turbulent  period;  when  foes  thronged  and  threatened  from, 
without;  when  anarchy  and  stiff-necked  opposition  reigned 
rampant  within;  when  the  authority  of  their  High  Mighti- 
nesses the  Lords  States  General,  though  founded  on  the  broad 
Dutch  bottom  of  unoffending  imbecUity ;  though  supported  by 
economy,  and  defended  by  speeches,  protests  and  proclama- 
mations,  yet  tottered  to  its  very  centre ;  and  when  the  great  city 
of  New- Amsterdam,  though  fortified  by  flag-staffs,  trumpeters,  , 
and  windmills,  seemed  hke  some  fair  lady  of  easy  virtue,  to  lie  ' 
open  to  attack,  and  ready  to  yield  to  the  first  invader. 


A  UISIVUY  OF  NEW-TORK 


177 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHOWING  HOW  PETER  THE  HEADSTRONG  BESTIRRED  HDISELF 
AMONG  THE  RATS  AND  COBWEBS,  ON  ENTERING  INTO  OFFICE — 
AND  THE  PERILOUS  MISTAKE  HE  WAS  GUILTY  OF,  IN  HIS  DEAL- 
INGS WITH  THE  AMPHYCTIONS. 

The  very  first  movements  of  the  great  Peter,  on  taking  the 
reigns  of  government,  displayed  the  magnanimity  of  his  mind, 
though  they  occasioned  not  a  httle  marvel  and  uneasiness 
among  the  people  of  the  Manhattoes".  Finding  liimself  con- 
stantly interrupted  by  the  opposition,  and  annoyed  by  the  ad- 
vice, of  his  privy  council,  the  members  of  which  had  acquired 
the  unreasonable  habit  of  thinking  and  speaking  for  themselves 
during  the  preceding  reign,  he  determined  at  once  to  put  a 
stop  to  such  grievous  abominations.  Scarcely,  therefore,  had 
he  entered  upon  his  authority,  than  he  turned  out  of  office  aU 
those  meddlesome  spirits  that  composed  the  factious  cabinet  of 
WilHam  the  Testy;  in  place  of  whom  he  chose  unto  himself 
counsellors  from  those  fat,  somniferous,  respectable  families, 
that  had  flourished  and  slumbered  under  the  easy  reign  of 
Walter  the  Doubter.  All  these  he  caused  to  be  furnished  with 
abundance  of  fair  long  pipes,  and  to  be  regaled  v/ith  frequent 
corporation  dinners,  admonishing  them  to  smoke,  and  eat,  and 
sleep  for  the  good  of  the  nation,  while  he  took  all  the  burden 
of  government  upon  his  own  shoulders — an  arrangement  to 
which  they  gave  hearty  acquiescence. 

Nor  did  he  stop  here,  but  made  a  hideous  rout  among  the 
Inventions  and  expedients  of  his  learned  predecessor — demol- 
ishing his  flagstaffs  and  windmills,  which,  like  mighty  giants, 
guarded  the  ramparts  of  New- Amsterdam — pitching  to  the 
duyvel  whole  batteries  of  quaker  guns — rooting  up  his  patent 
gallows,  where  caitiff  vagabonds  were  suspended  by  the  waist- 
band—and, in  a  word,  turning  topsy-turvy  the  whole  philo- 
sophic, economic,  and  windmill  system  of  the  immortal  sage 
of  Saardem. 

The  honest  folks  of  New- Amsterdam  began  to  quake  now  for 
the  fate  of  their  matchless  champion,  Antony  the  trumpeter, 
who  had  acquired  prodigious  favour  in  the  eyes  of  the  women, 
by  means  of  his  whiskers  and  his  trumpet.  Him  did  Peter  the 
Headstrong  cause  to  be  brought  into  his  presence,  and  eyeing 


178 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW- TORE. 


him  for  a  moment  from  head  to  foot,  with  a  countenance  that 
would  have  appalled  any  thing  else  than  a  sounder  of  brass — 
"  Prythee,  who  and  what  art  thou?"  said  he.—"  Sire,"  rephed 
the  other,  in  no  wise  dismayed, — "  for  my  name,  it  is  Antony 
Van  Corlear — for  my  parentage,  I  am  the  son  of  my  mother — 
for  my  profession,  I  am  champion  and  garrison  of  this  gi-eat 
city  of  New- Amsterdam." — "I  doubt  me  much,"  said  Peter 
Stuyvesant,  "  that  thou  art  some  scurvy  costardmonger  knave 
— how  didst  thou  acquire  this  paramount  honour  and  dignity?" 
— "Marry,  sir,"  rephed  the  other,  "like  many  a  great  man 
before  me,  simply  by  sounding  my  own  trumpet. — "  Ay,  is  it 
so?"  quoth  the  governor,  "why,  then,  let  us  have  a  relish  of 
thy  art."  Whereupon  he  put  his  instrument  to  his  hps,  and 
sounded  a  charge  with  such  a  tremendous  outset,  such  a  de- 
lectable quaver,  and  such  a  triumphant  cadence,  that  it  was 
enough  to  make  your  heart  leap  out  of  your  mouth  only  to  be 
within  a  mile  of  it.  Like  as  a  war-worn  charger,  while  sport- 
ing in  peaceful  plains,  if  by  chance  he  hear  the  strains  of  mar- 
tial music,  pricks  up  his  ears,  and  snorts  and  paws  and  kindles 
at  the  noise,  so  did  the  heroic  soul  of  the  mighty  Peter  joy  to 
hear  the  clangour  of  the  trumpet ;  for  of  him  might  truly  be 
said  what  was  recorded  of  the  renowned  St.  George  of  England, 
"there  was  nothing  in  all  the  world  that  more  rejoiced  his 
heart,  than  to  hear  the  pleasant  sound  of  war,  and  see  the  sol- 
diers brandish  forth  their  steeled  weapons."  Casting  his  eyes 
more  kindly,  therefore,  upon  the  sturdy  Van  Corlear,  and  find- 
ing him  to  be  a  jolly,  fat  httle  man,  shrewd  in  his  discourse, 
yet  of  great  discretion  and  immeasurable  wind,  he  straightway 
conceived  a  vast  kindness  for  him,  and  discharging  him  from 
the  troublesome  duty  of  garrisoning,  defending,  and  alarming 
the  city,  ever  after  retained  him  about  his  person,  as  his  chief 
favourite,  confidential  envoy,  and  trusty  'squire.  Instead  of 
disturbing  the  city  with  disastrous  notes,  he  was  instructed  to 
play  so  as  to  delight  the  governor  while  at  his  repasts,  as  did 
the  minstrels  of  yore  in  the  days  of  glorious  chivalry — and  on 
all  public  occasions  to  rejoice  the  ears  of  the  people  with  war- 
like melody — thereby  keeping  ahve  a  noble  and  martial  spirit. 

Many  other  alterations  and  reformations,  both  for  the  better 
and  for  the  worse,  did  the  governor  make,  of  which  my  time 
will  not  serve  me  to  record  the  particulars ;  suffice  it  to  say, 
he  soon  contrived  to  make  the  province  feel  that  he  was  its 
master,  and  treated  the  sovereign  people  with  such  tyrannical 
rigour,  that  they  were  all  fain  to  hold  their  tongues,  stay  at 


A  UISTOllY  OF  M'AV  YOUR. 


179 


home,  and  attend  to  their  business ;  insomuch  that  party  feuds 
and  distinctions  were  almost  forgotten,  and  many  thriving 
keepers  of  taverns  and  dramshops  were  utterly  ruined  for 
want  of  business. 

Indeed,  the  critical  state  of  public  affairs  at  this  time  de 
manded  the  utmost  vigilance  and  promptitude.  The  formida- 
ble council  of  the  Amphyctions,  which  had  caused  so  much 
tribulation  to  the  unfortunate  Kieft,  still  continued  augment- 
ing its  forces,  and  threatened  to  Hnk  within  its  union  all  the 
mighty  principalities  and  powers  of  the  east.  In  the  very 
year  following  the  inauguration  of  Governor  Stuyvesant,  a 
grand  deputation  departed  from  the  city  of  Providence  (fa- 
mous for  its  dusty  streets  and  beauteous  women,)  in  behalf 
of  the  puissant  plantation  of  Rhode  Island,  jjraying  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  league. 

The  following  mention  is  made  of  this  application,  in  certain 
records  of  that  assemblage  of  worthies,  which  are  still  extant.* 

"Mr.  WiU  Cottington  and  captain  Partridg  of  Rhoode-Iland 
presented  this  insewing  request  to  the  commissioners  in 
wrighting — 

"Our  request  and  motion  is  in  behalf e  of  Rhoode-Iland,  that 
wee  the  Ilanders  of  Rhoode-Iland  may  be  rescauied  into  com- 
bination with  all  the  united  colony es  of  New-England  in  a 
firme  and  perpetuall  league  of  friendship  and  amity  of  ofencc 
and  defence,  mutuaU  advice  and  succor  upon  all  just  occasions 
for  our  mutuall  safety  and  weUfaire,  &c. 

Wm  Cottington, 
Alicxsander  Partridg." 

There  is  certainly  something  in  the  very  physiognomy  of 
this  document  that  might  well  inspire  apprehension.  Tho 
name  of  Alexander,  however  misspelt,  has  been  warlike  in 
every  age ;  and  though*  its  fierceness  is  in  some  measure  soft- 
ened by  being  coupled  with  the  gentle  cognomen  of  Partridge 
etiU,  like  the  colour  of  scarlet^  it  bears  an  exceeding  great  re 
semblance  to  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  From  the  style  of  the 
letter,  moreover,  and  the  soldier-like  ignorance  of  orthogi'aphy 
displayed  by  the  noble  captain  Alicxsander  PiU-tridg  in  spell- 
ing his  own  name,  we  may  picture  to  ourselves  this  mighty 
man  of  Rhodes,  strong  in  arms,  potent  in  the  field,  and  as 
great  a  scholar  as  though  he  had  been  educated  among  that 


*  Haz.  Col.  state  Papers. 


180 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW- YORE. 


learned  people  of  Thrace,  who,  Aristotle  assures  us,  could  not 
count  beyond  the  number  four. 

But,  whatever  might  be  the  threatening  aspect  of  this 
famous  confederation,  Peter  Stuyvesant  was  not  a  man  to  be 
kept  in  a  state  of  incertitude  and  vague  apprehension;  he 
Hked  nothing  so  much  as  to  meet  danger  face  to  face,  and 
take  it  by  the  beard.  Determined,  therefore,  to  put  an  end 
to  all  these  petty  maraudings  on  the  borders,  he  wrote  two  or 
three  categorical  letters  to  the  grand  council ;  w^hich,  though 
neither  couched  in  bad  Latin,  nor  yet  graced  by  rhetorical 
tropes  about  wols^es  and  lambs,  and  beetle-flies,  yet  had  more 
effect  than  all  the  elaborate  epistles,  protests,  and  proclama- 
tions of  his  learned  predecessor  put  together.  In  consequence 
of  his  urgent  propositions,  the  great  confederacy  of  the  east 
agreed  to  enter  into  a  final  adjustment  of  grievances  and  set- 
tlement of  boundaries,  to  the  end  that  a  perpetual  and  happy 
peace  might  take  place  between  the  two  powers.  For  tliis 
purpose.  Governor  Stuyvesant  deputed  two  ambassadors  to 
negotiate  with  connnissioners  from  the  grand  council  of  the 
league;  and  a  treaty  was  solemnly  concluded  at  Hartford. 
On  receiving  intelligence  of  this  event,  the  whole  community 
was  in  an  uproar  of  exultation.  The  trumpet  of  the  sturdy 
Van  Corlear  sounded  ail  day  with  joyful  clangour  from  the 
ramparts  of  Fort  Amsterdam,  and  at  night  the  city  was  mag- 
nificently illuminated  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  taliow  can- 
dles ;  besides  a  barrel  of  tar,  wliich  was  burnt  before  the  gov- 
ernor's house,  on  the  cheering  aspect  of  public  affairs. 

And  now  my  worthy  reader  is,  doubtless,  like  the  great  and 
good  Peter,  congratulating  himself  with  the  idea,  that  his  feel- 
ings will  no  longer  be  molested  by  afflicting  details  of  stolen 
horses,  broken  heads,  impounded  hogs,  and  all  the  other  cata- 
logue of  heartrending  cruelties  that  disgraced  these  border 
wars.  But  if  he  should  indulge  in  such  expectations,  it  is  a 
proof  that  he  is  but  little  versed  m  the  paradoxical  ways  of 
cabinets;  to  convince  him  of  which,  I  solicit  his  serious  atten- 
tion to  my  next  chapter,  wherein  I  will  show  that  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant has  already  committed  a  great  error  in  politics;  and  by 
effecting  a  peace,  has  materially  hazarded  the  tranquiUity  of 
the  province. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


181 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONTAINING  DIVERS  SPECULATIONS  ON  WAR  AND  NEGOTIATIONS- 
SHOWING  THAT  A  TREATY  OF  PEACE  IS  A  GREAT  NATIONAJ4 
EVIL. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  that  poetical  philosopher,  Lucretius, 
that  war  was  the  original  state  of  man,  whom  he  described  as 
being  primitively  a  savage  beast  of  prey,  engaged  in  a  con- 
stant  state  of  hostility  with  his  own  species ;  and  that  this  fe- 
rocious spirit  was  tamed  and  meliorated  by  society.  The  same 
opinion  has  been  advocated  by  Hobbes ;  *  nor  have  there  been 
wanting  many  other  philosophers,  to  admit  and  defend  it. 

For  my  part,  though  prodigiously  fond  of  these  valuable 
speculations,  so  comphmentary  to  human  nature,  yet,  in  this 
instance,  I  am  inclined  to  take  the  proposition  by  halves,  be- 
lieving, with  Horace,  t  that  though  war  may  have  been  origin- 
ally the  favourite  amusement  and  industrious  employment  of 
our  progenitors,  yet,  hke  many  other  excellent  habits,  so  far 
from  being  mehorated,  it  has  been  cultivated  and  confirmed 
by  refinement  and  civihzation,  and  increases  in  exact  propor- 
tion as  we  approach  towards  that  state  of  perfection  which  is 
the  ne  plus  ultra  of  modern  philosophy. 

The  first  conflict  between  man  and  mfin  was  the  mere  exer- 
tion of  physical  force,  unaided  by  auxiliary  weapons— his  arm 
was  his  buckler,  his  fist  was  his  mace,  and  a  broken  head 
the  catastrophe  of  his  encounters.  The  battle  of  unassisted 
strength  was  succeeded  by  the  more  rugged  one  of  stones  and 
clubs,  and  war  assumed  a  sanguinary  aspect.  As  man  ad- 
vanced in  refinement,  as  his  faculties  expanded,  and  his  sen- 
sibilities became  more  exquisite,  he  grew  rapidly  more  ingeni- 
ous and  experienced  in  the  art  of  murdering  his  feUow-beings. 
He  invented  a  thousand  devices  to  defend  and  to  assault — the 
helmet,  the  cuu-ass,  and  the  buckler,  the  sword,  the  dart,  and 
the  javelin,  prepared  him  to  elude  the  wound,  as  well  as  to 
lanch  the  blow.    Still  urging  on,  in  the  brilliant  and  philan- 


*  Hobbes'  Leviathan.   Part  i.  chap.  13. 

t  Quum  prorepserunt  primis  anirualia  terris, 
Mutuum  ac  turpe  pecus,  glandem  atque  cubilia  propter, 
Uoguibus  et  pugnis,  dein  fustibus.  atqne  ita  porro 
Pugnabant  arrais,  quae  post  fabricaverat  usus.— Hor.  Sat.  1.  i.  s.  3. 


182 


A  HISTORY  OF  NKW-TORK. 


thropic  career  of  invention,  he  enlarges  and  heightens  his 
powers  of  defence  and  injury — the  Aries,  the  Scorpio,  the 
Bahsta,  and  the  Catapulta,  give  a  horror  and  subhniity  to 
war,  and  magnify  its  glory  by  increasing  its  desolation.  Still 
insatiable,  though  armed  with  machinery  that  seemed  to  reach 
the  hmits  of  destructive  invention,  and  to  yield  a  power  of 
injury  commensurate  even  mth  the  desires  of  revenge — still 
deeper  resea^rches  must  be  made  in  the  diabohcal  arcana. 
With  furious  zeal  he  dives  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth ;  he 
toils  midst  poisonous  minerals  and  deadly  salts — the  sublime 
discovery  of  gimpowder  blazes  upon  the  world — and  finally, 
the  dreadful  art  of  fighting  by  proclamation  seems  to  endow 
the  demon  of  war  with  ubiquity  and  oimiipotence ! 

This,  indeed,  is  grand!— this,  indeed,  marks  the  powers  of 
mind,  and  bespeaks  that  divine  endowment  of  reason  which 
distinguishes  us  from  the  animals,  our  inferiors.  The  un- 
enhghtened  brutes  content  themselves  with  the  native  force 
w^hich  Providence  has  assigned  them.  The  angry  bull  butts 
with  his  horns,  as  did  his  progenitors  before  him — the  hon,  the 
leopard,  and  the  tiger  seek  only  with  their  talons  and  their 
fangs  to  gratify  their  sanguinary  fury;  and  even  the  subtle 
serpent  darts  the  same  venom  and  uses  the  same  wiles  as 
did  his  sire  before  the  flood.  Man  alone,  blessed  with  the 
inventive  mind,  goes  on  from  discovery  to  discovery — en- 
larges and  multiplies  his  powers  of  destruction ;  arrogates  the 
tremendous  weapons  of  Deity  itself,  and  tasks  creation  to 
assist  liim  in  murdering  his  brother  worm ! 

In  proportion  as  the  art  of  war  has  increased  in  improve- 
ment, has  the  art  of  preserving  peace  advanced  in  equal  ratio ; 
and,  as  we  have  discovered,  in  this  age  of  wonders  and  inven- 
tions, that  a  proclamation  is  the  most  formidable  engine  in 
war,  so  have  we  discovered  the  no  less  ingenious  mode  of 
maintaining  peace  by  perpetual  negotiations. 

A  treaty,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  a  negotiation,  there- 
fore, according  to  the  acceptation  of  experienced  statesmen, 
learned  in  th-ese  matters,  is  no  longer  an  attempt  to  accommo- 
date ditferences,  to  ascertain  rights,  an  1  to  establish  an  equi- 
table exchange  of  kind  offices ;  but  a  contest  of  skill  between 
two  powers,  which  shall  overreach  and  take  in  the  other.  It 
is  a  cunning  endeavour  to  obtain,  by  peaceable  manoeuvre  and 
the  chicanery  of  cabinets,  those  advantages  which  a  nation 
would  otherwise  have  wrested  by  force  of  arms :  in  the  same 
mamier  that  a  conscientious  highwayman  reforms  and  becomes 


A  lllSTOllY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


183 


an  excellent  and  praiseworthy  citizen,  contenting  himself  with 
cheating  his  neighbour  out  of  that  property  he  would  formerly 
have  seized  with  open  violence. 

In  fact,  the  only  time  when  two  nations  can  be  said  to  be  in 
a  state  of  perfect  amity,  is  when  a  negotiation  is  open  and  a 
treaty  pending.  Then,  as  ttere  are  no  stipulations  entered 
into,  no  bonds  to  restrain  the  will,  no  specific  limits  to  awaken 
the  captious  jealousy  of  right  implanted  in  our  nature,  as  each 
party  has  some  advantage  to  hope  and  exi^ect  from  the  other, 
then  it  is  that  the  two  nations  are  so  gracious  and  fi-iendly  to 
each  other ;  their  ministers  professing  the  highest  mutual  re- 
gard, exchanging  billetsdoux,  making  fine  speeches,  and  in- 
dulging in  all  those  diplomatic  flirtations,  coquetries,  and  fond- 
lings, that  do  so  marvellously  tickle  the  good-humour  of  the 
respective  nations.  Thus  it  may  paradoxically  be  said,  that 
there  is  never  so  good  an  understanding  between  two  nations  as 
when  there  is  a  httle  misunderstanding — and  that  so  long  as 
there  are  k.o  terms,  they  are  on  the  best  terms  in  the  world. 

I  do  not  \fy  any  means  pretend  to  claim  the  merit  of  having 
made  the  above  political  discovery.  It  has,  in  fact,  long  been 
secretly  acted  upon  by  certain  enlightened  cabinets,  and  is, 
together  with  divers  other  notable  theories,  privately  copied 
Dut  of  the  common-place  book  of  an  illustrious  gentleman,  who 
has  been  member  of  Congress  and  enjoyed  the  unlimited  con- 
fidence of  heads  of  departments.  To  this  principle  may  be 
asci'ibed  the  wonderful  ingenuity  that  has  been  shown  of  late 
years  in  protracting  and  interrupting  negotiations.  Hence  the 
cunning  measure  of  appointing  as  ambassador  some  political 
pettifogger  skilled  in  delays,  sophisms  and  misapprehensions, 
and  dexterous  in  the  art  of  baMng  argiiment — or  some  blimder- 
ing  statesman,  whose  errors  and  misconstructions  may  be  a 
]:)lea  for  i-efusing  to  ratify  his  engagements.  And  lienr*e,  too, 
that  most  notable  expedient,  so  popular  with  our  government, 
of  sending  out  a  brace  of  ambassadors ;  who,  having  each  an  in- 
di^adual  will  to  consult,  character  to  establish,  and  interest  to 
promote,  you  may  as  well  look  for  unanimity  and  concord  be- 
tween two  lovers  with  one  mistress,  two  dogs  with  one  bone, 
or  two  naked  rogues  with  one  pair  of  breeches.  This  disagree- 
ment, therefore,  is  continually  breeding  delays  and  impedi- 
ments, in  consequence  of  wliich  the  negotiation  goes  on  swim- 
mingly— insomuch  as  there  is  no  prospect  of  its  ever  coming  to 
a  close.  Notliing  is  lost  by  these  delays  and  obstacles  but 
time,  and  in  a  negotiation,  according  to  the  theory  I  have 


184 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


exposed,  all  time  lost  is  in  reality  so  much  time  gained — Avith 
what  delightful  paradoxes  does  modem  political  economy 
abound ! 

Now  all  that  I  have  here  advanced  is  so  notoriously  true,  that 
I  almost  blush  to  take  up  the  time  of  my  readers  with  treating 
of  matters  which  must  many  a  time  have  stared  them  in  the 
face.  But  the  proposition  to  which  I  would  most  earnestly  call 
their  attention,  is  this — that  though  a  negotiation  be  the  most 
harmonizing  of  all  national  transactions,  yet  a  treaty  of  peace 
is  a  great  political  evil,  and  one  of  the  most  fruitful  sources  of 
war. 

I  have  rarely  seen  an  instance  of  any  special  contract  be- 
tween individuals,  that  did  not  produce  jealousies,  bickerings, 
and  often  downright  ruptures  between  them ;  nor  did  I  ever 
know  of  a  treaty  between  two  nations,  that  did  not  occasion 
continual  misunderstandings.  How  many  worthy  country 
neighbours  have  I  known,  who,  after  hving  in  peace  and  good- 
fellowship  for  years,  have  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  distrust, 
carolling,  and  animosity,  by  some  ill-starred  agi*eement  about 
fences,  runs  of  water,  and  stray  cattle.  And  how  many  well- 
meaning  nations,  who  would  otherwise  have  remained  in  the 
most  amicable  disposition  towards  each  other,  have  been 
brought  to  sword's  points  about  the  infringement  or  miscon- 
struction of  some  treaty,  which  in  an  evil  hour  they  had  con- 
cluded by  way  of  makmg  their  amity  more  sm-e ! 

Treaties,  at  best,  are  but  comphed  with  so  long  as  interest 
requires  theii'  fulfilment ;  consequently,  they  are  virtually  bind- 
ing on  the  weaker  party  only,  or,  in  plain  truth,  they  are  not 
binding  at  all.  No  nation  will  wantonly  go  to  war  with  another, 
if  it  has  nothing  to  gain  thereby,  and,  therefore,  needs  no  treaty 
to  restrain  it  from  violence ;  and  if  it  have  any  thing  to  gain,  I 
much  question,  from  what  I  have  \vitnessed  of  the  righteous 
conduct  of  nations,  whether  any  treaty  could  be  made  so 
strong  that  it  could  not  thrust  the  sword  tlu*ough— nay,  I 
would  bold,  ten  to  one,  the  treaty  itseK  would  be  the  very 
source  to  which  resort  would  be  had,  to  find  a  pretext  for  ho. 
tilities. 

Thus,  therefore,  I  conclude— that  though  it  is  the  best  of  all 
]X)hcies  for  a  nation  to  keep  up  a  constant  negotiation  with  its 
neighbours,  yet  it  is  the  sunnnit  of  folly  for  it  ever  to  be  be- 
guiled into  a  treaty ;  for  then  comes  on  the  non-fulfilment  and 
infraction,  then  remonstrance,  then  altercation,  then  retalia- 
tion, then  recrimination,  and  finally  open  war.    In  a  word. 


A  in  STORY  OF  MiJW-YOUK. 


185 


negotiation  is  like  courtship,  a  time  of  sweet  words,  gallant 
speeches,  soft  looks,  and  endearing  caresses ;  but  the  marriage 
ceremony  is  the  signal  for  hostihties. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  PETER  STUYVESANT  WAS   GREATLY  BELIED  BY  HIS  ADVER- 
SARIES, THE  MOSSTROOPERS— AND  HIS  CONDUCT  THEREUPON. 

If  my  pains-taking  reader  be  not  somewhat  perplexed,  in 
the  course  of  the  ratiocination  of  Iny  last  chapter,  he  will 
doubtless  at  one  glance  perceive  that  the  great  Peter,  in  con- 
cluding a  treaty  with  his  eastern  neighbours,  was  guilty  of  a 
lamentable  error  and  heterodoxy  in  pohtics.  To  this  unlucky 
agreement  may  justly  be  ascribed  a  world  of  httle  infringe- 
ments, altercations,  negotiations,  and  bickerings,  which  after- 
wards took  place  between  the  irreproachaDle  Stuyvesant,  and 
the  evil-disposed  council  of  Amphyctions.  All  these  did  not  a 
Httle  disturb  the  constitutional  serenity  of  the  good  burghers 
of  Manna-hata ;  but  in  sooth  they  were  so  very  pitiful  in  their 
nature  and  effects,  that  a  grave  historian,  who  grudges  the 
time  spent  in  any  thing  less  than  recording  the  fall  of  empires, 
and  the  revolution  of  worlds,  would  think  them  unworthy  to 
be  inscribed  on  his  sacred  page. 

The  reader  is,  therefore,  to  take  it  for  granted,  though  I 
scorn  to  waste  in  the  detail  that  time  which  my  furrowed 
brow  and  trembhng  hand  inform  rde  is  invaluable,  that  aU 
the  while  the  great  Peter  was  occupied  in  those  tremendous 
and  bloody  contests  that  I  shall  shortly  rehearse,  there  was  a 
continued  series  of  little,  dirty,  snivelling  skirmishes,  scour- 
ings,  broils,  and  maraudings,  made  on  the  eastern  frontiei-s, 
by  the  mosstroopers  of  Connecticut.  But,  like  that  mirror  of 
chivalry,  the  sage  and  valorous  Don  Quixote,  I  leave  these 
petty  contests  for  some  future  Sancho  Panza  of  a  historian, 
while  I  reserve  my  prowess  and  my  pen  for  achievements  of 
higher  dignity. 

Now  did  the  great  Peter  conclude,  that  his  labours  had  come 
to  a  close  in  the  east,  and  that  he  had  notliing  to  do  but  apply 
himself  to  the  internal  prosperity  of  his  beloved  Manhattoes. 
Though  a  man  of  great  modesty,  he  could  not  help  boasting 
tliat  he  had  at  lengtli  shut  the  temple  of  Janus,  and  that,  were 


186 


A  111  STORY  OF  NEW-TOHK. 


all  rulers  like  a  certain  person  who  should  he  nameless,  it 
would  never  be  opened  again.  But  the  exultation  of  the 
worthy  governor  was  put  to  a  speedy  check ;  for  scarce  was 
the  treatj^  concluded,  and  hardly  was  the  ink  dried  on  the 
paper,  before  the  crafty  and  discourteous  council  of  the  league 
sought  a  new  pretence  for  re-illuming  the  flames  of  discord. 

It  seems  to  be  the  nature  of  confederacies,  republics,  and 
such  like  powers,  that  want  the  true  masculine  character,  to 
indulge  exceedingly  in  certain  feminine  panics  and  suspicions. 
Like  some  good  lady  of  deHcate  and  sickly  virtue,  who  is  in 
constant  dread  of  having  her  vestal  purity  contaminated  or 
seduced,  and  who,  if  a  man  do  but  take  her  by  the  hand,  or 
look  her  in  the  face,  is  ready  to  cry  out,  rape !  and  ruin !— so 
these  squeamish  governments  are  perpetually  on  the  alarm  for 
the  virtue  of  the  country ;  every  manly  measure  is  a  ^dolati*  n\ 
of  the  constitution — every  monarchy  or  other  masculine  gov  - 
ernment around  them  is  laying  snares  for  theii*  seduction ;  an^l 
they  are  for  ever  detecting  infernal  plots,  by  which  they  were 
to  be  betrayed,  dishonoured,  and  "brought  upon  the  town." 

If  any  proof  were  wanting  of  the  truth  of  these  opinions,  I 
would  mstance  the  conduct  of  a  certain  repubhc  of  our  day; 
who,  good  dame,  has  already  withstood  so  many  plots  and 
conspiracies  against  her  virtue,  and  has  so  often  come  near 
being  made  "no  better  than  she  should  be."  I  would  notice 
her  constant  jealousies  of  poor  old  England,  who,  by  her  own 
account,  has  been  incessantly  trying  to  sap  her  honour; 
though,  from  my  soul,  I  never  could  beheve  the  honest  old 
gentleman  meant  her  any  rudeness.  Whereas,  on  the  con- 
trary, I  think  I  have  several  times  caught  her  squeezing  hands 
and  indulging  in  certain  amorous  oglings  with  that  sad  fellow 
Buonaparte — who  all  the  world  knows  to  be  a  great  despoiler 
of  national  virtue,  to  have  ruined  all  the  empires  in  his  neigh- 
bourhood, and  to  have  debauched  every  repubhc  that  came  in 
his  way — but  so  it  is,  those  rakes  seem  always  to  gain  singular 
favour  Avith  the  ladies. 

But  I  crave  pardon  of  my  reader  for  thus  wandering,  ai 
will  endeavour  in  some  measure  to  apply  the  foregoing  ic- 
raarks ;  for  in  the  year  1G51,  we  are  told,  the  great  conf ederac  }' 
of  the  east  accused  the  immaculate  Peter — the  soul  of  honour 
and  heai't  of  steel — that  by  divers  gifts  and  promises  he  had 
been  secretly  endeavourmg  to  instigate  the  Narrohigansci 
(or  Narraganset)  Mohaque,  and  Pequot  Indians,  to  surprise 
and  massacre  the  Yankee  settlements.     "  For,"  as  the  council 


A  UlSTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


187 


slanderously  observed,  ''the  Indians  round  about  for  divers 
hundred  miles  cercute,  seeme  to  have  drunke  deep  of  an  in- 
toxicating cupp,  att  or  from  the  Manhatoes  against  the  Eng- 
lish, whoe  have  sought  their  good,  both  in  bodily  and  spirituall 
respects." 

History  does  not  make  mention  how  the  great  council  of  the 
Amphyctions  came  by  this  precious  plot;  whether  it  was 
honestly  bought  at  a  fair  market  price,  or  discovered  by  sheer- 
good  fortune— it  is  certain,  however,  that  they  examined 
divers  Indians,  who  all  swore  to  the  fact  as  sturdily  as  though 
they  had  been  so  many  Christian  troopers;  and  to  be  more 
sure  of  their  veracity,  the  sage  council  previously  made  every 
mother's  son  of  them  devoutly  drunk,  remembering  an  old 
and  trite  proverb,  wliich  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  repeat. 

Though  descended  from  a  family  which  suffered  much  in- 
jury from  the  losel  Yankees  of  those  times— my  great-grand- 
father having  had  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  his  best  pacer  stolen, 
and  having  received  a  pair  of  black  eyes  and  a  bloody  nose  in 
one  of  these  border  wars ;  and  my  grandfather,  when  a  very 
little  boy  tending  pigs,  having  been  kidnapped  and  severely 
flogged  by  a  long-sided  Connecticut  schoolmaster — yet  I  should 
have  passed  over  all  these  wrongs  with  forgiveness  and  obh- 
vion — I  could  even  have  suffered  them  to  have  broken  Evert 
Ducking's  head,  to  have  kicked  the  doughty  Jacobus  Van 
Curlet  and  his  ragged  regiment  out  of  doors,  carried  every  hog 
iato  captivity,  and  depopulated  every  hen-roost  on  the  face  of 
the  earth,  with  perfect  impunity. — But  this  wanton  attack 
upon  one  of  the  most  gallant  and  irreproachable  heroes  of 
modern  tunes  is  too  much  even  for  me  to  digest,  and  has  over- 
set, with  a  single  puff,  the  xjatience  of  the  historian,  and  the 
forbearance  of  the  Dutchman. 

Oh,  reader,  it  was  false! — I  swear  to  thee,  it  was  false!  if 
thou  hast  any  respect  to  my  word— if  the  undeviating  charac- 
ter for  veracity,  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  maintain 
throughout  this  work,  has  its  due  weight  with  thee,  thou  vvdlt 
not  give  thy  faith  to  this  tale  of  slander;  for  I  pledge  my 
honour  and  my  immortal  fame  to  thee,  that  the  gallant  Peter 
Stuyvesant  was  not  onJj^  innocent  of  this  foul  conspiracy,  but 
would  have  suffered  his  right  arm,  or  even  his  wooden  leg,  to 
consume  with  slow  and  everlasting  flames,  rather  than  at- 
tempt to  destroy  his  enemies  in  any  other  way  than  open, 
generous  warfare— beshrew  those  caitiff  scouts,  that  conspired 
to  sully  his  honest  name  by  such  an  imputation. 


188 


A  Ill^TOKY  OF  AEW-YOllK. 


Peter  Stuy vesant,  though  he  perhaps  had  never  heard  of  a 
knightrcrrant,  yet  had  he  as  true  a  heart  of  chivalry  as  ever 
beat  at  the  round  table  of  King  Arthur.  There  was  a  spirit  of 
native  gallantry,  a  noble  and  generous  hardihood  diffused 
through  his  rugged  manners,  which  altogether  gave  unques- 
tionable tokens  of  a  heroic  mind.  He  was,  in  truth,  a  hero  of 
chivalry,  struck  off  by  the  hand  of  Nature  at  a  single  heat, 
and  though  she  had  taken  no  further  care  to  polish  and  refine 
her  workmanship,  he  stood  forth  a  miracle  of  her  skill. 

But,  not  to  be  figiu-ative,  (a  fault  in  historic  writing  which  I 
particularly  eschew,)  the  great  Peter  possessed,  in  an  eminent 
degree,  the  seven  renowned  and  noble  virtues  of  knighthood, 
which,  as  he  had  never  consulted  authors  in  the  disciplining 
and  cultivating  of  his  mind,  I  verily  beheve  must  have  been 
implanted  in  the  corner  of  his  heart  by  dame  Nature  herself— 
where  they  flourished  among  his  hardy  quahties  like  so  many 
sweet  wild  flovN^ers,  shooting  forth  and  tlirivmg  with  redundant 
luxuriance  among  stubborn  rocks.  Such  was  the  mind  of 
Peter  the  Headstrong,  and  if  my  admiration  for  it  has,  on  this 
occasion,  transported  my  style  beyond  the  sober  gravity 
which  becomes  the  laborious  scribe  of  historic  events,  I  can 
plead  as  an  apology,  that  though  a  httle  gray -headed  Dutch- 
man arrived  almost  at  the  bottom  of  the  down-hill  of  life,  I 
still  retain  some  portion  of  that  celestial  fire  w^liich  sparkles  in 
the  eye  of  youth,  when  contemplating  the  virtues  and  achieve- 
ments of  ancient  worthies.  Blessed,  thri^^e  and  nine  times 
blessed  be  the  good  St.  Nicholas— that  I  have  escaped  the  influ- 
ence of  that  cliilling  apathy,  which  too  often  freezes  the  sym- 
pathies of  age ;  which,  like  a  churlish  spirit,  sits  at  the  portals 
of  the  heart,  repulsing  every  genial  sentiment,  and  paralyzing 
every  spontaneous  glow  of  enthusiasm. 

No  sooner,  then,  did  tliis  scoundrel  imputation  on  his  honour 
reach  the  ear  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  than  he  proceeded  in  a  man- 
ner which  would  have  redounded  to  liis  credit,  even  though  ke 
had  studied  for  years  in  the  hbrary  of  Don  Quixote  himself. 
He  immediately  despatched  his  vahant  trumpeter  and  squire, 
Antony  Van  Corlear,  with  orders  to  ride  night  and  day,  as 
herald,  to  the  Amphyctionic  council,  reproaching  them,  in 
terms  of  noble  indignation,  for  giving  ear  to  the  slanders  of 
heathen  infidels,  against  the  character  of  a  Christian,  a  gentle- 
man, and  a  soldier — and  declaring,  that  as  to  the  treacherous 
and  bloody  plot  alleged  against  him,  whoever  affirmed  it  to  be 
true,  lied  in  his  teeth ! — to  prove  which,  he  defied  the  president 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


189 


of  the  council  and  all  his  compeers,  or,  if  they  pleased,  theii' 
puissant  champion,  captain  Alicxsander  Partridg,  that  mighty 
man  of  Eliodes,  to  meet  him  in  single  combat,  where  he 
would  trust  the  vindication  of  his  innocence  to  the  prowess 
of  his  arm. 

Tills  challenge  being  delivered  with  due  ceremony,  Antony 
Van  Corlear  sounded  a  trmnpot  of  defiance  before  the  whole 
council,  ending  witii  a  most  horrific  and  nasal  twang,  full  in 
the  face  of  Captain  Partridg,  who  almost  jumped  out  of  his 
skin  in  an  ecstasy  of  astonishment  at  the  noise.  This  done,  he 
moimted  a  tall  Flanders  mare,  wliich  he  always  rode,  and 
trotted  merrily  towards  the  Manhattoes — passing  through 
Hartford,  and  Piquag,  and  Middletown,  and  all  the  other  bor- 
der towns — twanging  his  trumpet  hke  a  very  devil,  so  that  the 
sweet  valleys  and  baulks  of  the  Connecticut  resounded  with  the 
warlike  melody — and  stopping  occasionally  to  eat  pmnpkin 
pies,  dance  at  country  frolics,  and  bundle  with  the  beauteous 
lasses  01  those  parts— whom  he  rejoiced  exceedingly  with  his 
soul-stirring  instrument. 

But  the  grand  council,  being  composed  of  considerate  men, 
had  no  idea  of  running  a  tilting  with  such  a  fiery  hero  as  the 
hardy  Peter — on  the  contrary,  they  sent  him  an  answer 
couched  in  the  meekest,  the  most  mild  and  provoking  terms, 
in  which  they  assured  him  that  his  guilt  was  proved  to  their 
perfect  satisfaction,  by  the  testimony  of  divers  sober  and 
respectable  Indians,  and  concluding  with  this  truly  amia- 
ble paragraph — "  For  youre  confidant  denialls  of  the  Barbarous 
plott  charged  will  waigh  little  in  balance  against  such  evi- 
dence, soe  that  we  must  still  require  and  seeke  due  satisfaction 
and  cecurite,  so  we  rest.  Sir, 

Youres  in  wayes  of  Righteousness,  &c." 

I  am  awai'e  that  the  above  transaction  has  been  differently 
recorded  by  certain  historians  of  the  east,  and  elsewhere ;  who 
seem  to  have  inherited  the  bitter  enmity  of  their  ancestors  to 
the  bravo  Peter— and  much  good  may  their  inheritance  do 
them.  These  declare,  that  Peter  Stuyvesant  requested  to  have 
the  charges  against  him  inquired  into,  by  commissioners  to  be 
appointed  for  the  purj  cse;  and  yet,  that  when  such  commis- 
sioners were  appointed,  he  refused  to  submit  to  their  examina- 
tion. In  this  artful  account,  there  is  but  the  semblance  of 
truth — he  did,  indeed,  most  gallantly  offer,  when  that  he  found 
a  deaf  ear  was  turned  to  his  challenge,  to  submit  his  conduct  to 
the  rigorous  inspection  of  a  court  of  honour — but  then  he 


190 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


expected  to  find  it  an  august  tribunal,  composed  of  courteous 
gentlemen,  the  governors  and  nobility  of  the  confederate  plan- 
tations, and  of  the  province  of  New-Netherlands;  where  he 
might  be  tried  by  his  peers,  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  rank 
and  dignity — whereas,  let  me  perish,  if  they  did  not  send  to 
the  Manhattoes  two  lean-sided  hungry  pettifoggers,  mounted 
on  Narraganset  pacers,  with  saddle-bags  under  their  bottoms, 
and  green  satchels  under  their  arms,  as  though  they  were 
about  to  beat  the  hoof  from  one  county  court  to  another  in 
search  of  a  law-suit. 

The  chivalric  Peter,  as  might  be  expected,  took  no  notice  of 
these  cunning  varlets ;  who,  with  professional  industry,  fell  to 
prying  and  sifting  about,  in  quest  of  ex  parte  evidence ;  per- 
plexing divers  simple  Indians  and  old  women,  with  their  cross- 
questioning,  until  they  contradicted  and  forswore  themselves 
most  horribly.  Thus  having  fulfilled  their  errand  to  their  own 
satisfaction,  they  returned  to  the  grand  council  with  their 
satchels  and  saddle-bags  stuffed  full  of  villainous  rumours, 
apocryphal  stories,  and  outrageous  calumnies,— for  all  which 
the  great  Peter  did  not  care  a  tobacco-stopper ;  but,  I  warrant 
me,  had  they  attempted  to  play  off  the  same  trick  upon  Wil- 
liam the  Testy,  he  would  have  treated  them  both  to  an  aerial 
gambol  on  his  patent  gallows. 

The  grand  council  of  the  east  held  a  very  solemn  meeting, 
on  the  return  of  their  envoys ;  and  after  they  had  pondered  a 
long  time  on  the  situation  of  affairs,  were  upon  the  point  of 
adjourning  without  being  able  to  agree  upon  any  thing.  At 
this  critical  moment,  one  of  those  meddlesome,  indefatigable 
spirits,  who  endeavour  to  establish  a  character  for  patriotism 
by  blowing  the  bellows  of  party,  until  the  whole  furnace  of 
politics  is  red-hot  with  sparks  and  cinders— and  who  have  just 
cunning  enough  to  know  that  there  is  no  time  so  favourable  for 
getting  on  the  people's  backs  as  when  they  are  in  a  state  of 
turmod,  and  attending  to  every  body's  business  but  their  own 
—this  aspiring  imp  of  faction,  who  was  called  a  great  politi- 
cian, because  he  had  secured  a  seat  in  council  by  calumniating 
all  his  opponents — he,  I  say ,  conceived  this  a  fit  opportunity  to 
strike  a  blow  that  should  secure  his  popularity  among  his  con- 
stituents who  lived  on  the  borders  of  Nieuw-Nederlandt,  and 
were  the  greatest  poachers  in  Christendom,  excepting  the 
Scotch  border  nobles.  Like  a  second  Peter  the  Hermit,  there- 
fore, he  stood  forth  and  preached  up  a  crusade  against  Peter 
*  Stuyvesant  and  his  devoted  city. 


A  JIISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


191 


He  made  a  speech  which  lasted  six  hours,  according  to  the 
ancient  custom  in  these  parts,  in  which  he  represented  the 
Dutch  as  a  race  of  impious  heretics,  who  neither  behoved  in 
witchcraft,  nor  the  sovereign  virtues  of  horse-shoes — who  left 
their  country  for  the  lucre  of  gain,  not  like  themselves,  for  the 
enjoyment  of  liberty  of  conscience — who,  in  short,  were  a  race 
of  mere  cannibals  and  anthropophagi,  inasmuch  as  they  never 
eat  cod-fish  on  Saturday,  devoured  swine's  flesh  without  mo 
lasses,  and  held  pumpkins  in  utter  contempt. 

This  speech  had  the  desired  effect,  for  the  council,  being 
a,wakened  by  the  sergeant-at-arms,  rubbed  their  eyes,  and  de- 
clared that  it  was  just  and  pohtic  to  declare  instant  war 
agamst  these  unchristian  anti-pumpkinites.  But  it  was  neces- 
sary that  the  people  at  large  should  first  be  prepared  for  this 
measure;  and  for  this  purpose  the  arguments  of  the  orator 
were  preached  from  the  pulpit  for  several  Sundays  subse- 
quent, and  earnestly  recommended  to  the  consideration  of 
every  good  Christian,  who  professed  as  well  as  practiced  the 
doctrines  of  meekness,  charity,  and  the  forgiveness  of  injuries. 
This  is  the  first  time  we  hear  of  the  "  drum  ecclesiastic"  beat- 
ing up  for  political  recruits  in  our  country ;  and  it  proved  of 
such  signal  efficacy,  that  it  has  since  been  called  into  frequent 
service  throughout  our  Union.  A  cunning  politician  is  often 
foimd  skulking  under  the  clerical  robe,  with  an  outside  all 
religion,  and  an  inside  all  political  rancour.  Things  spiritual 
and  things  temporal  are  strangely  jumbled  together,  like  poi- 
sons and  antidotes  on  an  apothecary's  shelf ;  and  instead  of  a 
devout  sermon,  the  simple  church-going  folk  have  often  a  po- 
litical pamphlet  thrust  down  their  throats,  labelled  with  a 
pious  text  from  Scripture. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW  THE  NEW-A5ISTERDAMERS  BECAME  GREAT  IN  ARMS,  AND 
OF  THE  DIREFUL  CATASTROPHE  OF  A  MIGHTY  ARMY — TO- 
GETHER W^ITH  PETER  STUYVESANT'S  MEASURES  TO  FORTIFY 
THE  CITY— AND  HOW  HE  WAS  THE  ORIGINAL  FOUNDER  OF  THE 
BATTERY. 

But,  notwithstanding  that  the  grand  council,  as  I  have 
already  shown,  were  amazingly  discreet  in  their  proceedings 
respecting  the  New  Netherlands,  and  conducted  the  whole 


192 


A  UISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


with  almost  as  much  silence  and  mystery  as  does  the  sage 
British  cabinet  one  of  its  ill-starred  secret  expeditions — yet  did 
the  ever-watchful  Peter  receive  as  full  and  accurate  informa- 
tion  of  every  movement  as  does  the  court  of  France  of  all  the 
notable  enterprises  I  have  mentioned.  He  accordingly  set 
himself  to  work,  to  render  the  machinations  of  his  bitter  ad- 
versaries abortive. 

I  know  that  many  will  censure  the  precipitation  of  this 
stout-hearted  old  governor,  in  that  he  hurried  into  the  ex- 
penses of  fortification,  without  ascertaining  whether  they  were 
necessary,  by  prudently  waiting  until  the  enemy  was  at  the 
door.  But  they  should  recollect  that  Peter  Stuy  vesant  had  not 
the  benefit  of  an  insight  into  the  modem  arcana  of  politics, 
and  was  strangely  bigoted  to  certain  obsolete  maxims  of  the 
old  school ;  among  which  he  firmly  beheved,  that  to  render  a 
country  respected  abroad,  it  was  necessary  to  make  it  formid- 
able at  home— and  that  a  nation  shoidd  place  its  reliance  for 
peace  and  security  more  upon  its  own  strength,  than  on  the 
justice  or  good-will  of  its  neighbours.  He  proceeded,  therefore, 
with  all  diligence,  to  put  the  province  and  metropohs  in  a 
strong  posture  of  defence. 

Ainong  the  few  renmants  of  ingenious  inventions  which 
remained  from  the  days  of  William  the  Testy,  were  those 
impregnable  bulwarks  of  public  safety,  militia  laws ;  by  which 
the  inhabitants  were  obhged  to  tiu-n  out  twice  a  year,  with 
such  mOitary  equipments— as  it  pleased  God;  and  were  put 
under  the  command  of  very  valiant  tailors,  and  man  milliners, 
who  though  on  ordinary  occasions  the  meekest,  pippin-hearted 
little  men  in  the  world,  were  very  devils  at  parades  and  courts- 
martial,  v/hen  they  had  cocked  hats  on  their  heads,  and 
swords  by  their  sides.  Under  the  instructions  of  these  peri- 
odical warriors,  the  gallant  train-bands  made  marvellous  pro- 
ficiency in  the  mj'stery  of  gunpowder.  They  were  taught  to 
face  to  the  right,  to  wheel  to  the  left,  to  snap  off  empty  fire- 
locks without  winking,  to  turn  a  corner  v^^thout  any  great 
uproar  or  irregularity,  and  to  march  through  sun  and  rain 
from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other  without  fluicliing — until 
in  the  end  they  became  so  valorous,  that  they  fired  oft"  blank 
cartridges,  without  so  much  as  turning  away  their  heads — 
could  hear  the  largest  field-piece  discharged,  without  stopping 
their  eai-s,  or  falhng  into  much  confusion — and  would  even  go 
through  all  the  fatigues  and  perils  of  a  summer  day's  parade, 
without  having  their  ranks  much  thinned  by  desertion ! 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


193 


True  it  is,  the  genius  of  this  truly  pacific  people  was  so  Httle 
given  to  war,  that  during  the  intervals  which  occurred  be- 
tween field  days,  they  generally  contrived  to  forget  all  the 
mihtary  tuition  they  had  received;  so  that  when  they  reap 
pcared  on  parade,  they  scarcely  knew  the  butt-end  of  the  mus- 
ket from  the  muzzle,  and  invariably  mistook  the  right  shoul- 
der for  the  left— a  mistake  which,  however,  was  soon  obviated 
by  chalking  their  left  arms.  But  whatever  might  be  their 
blunders  and  awkwardness,  the  sagacious  Kieft  declared  them 
to  be  of  but  little  importance— since,  as  he  judiciously  observed, 
one  campaign  would  be  of  more  instruction  to  them  than  a 
hundred  parades ;  for  though  two-thirds  of  them  might  be  food 
for  powder,  yet  such  of  the  other  third  as  did  not  run  away 
would  become  most  experienced  veterans. 

The  great  Stuyvesant  had  no  particular  veneration  for  the 
ingenious  experiments  and  institutions  of  his  shrewd  predeces- 
sor, and  among  other  things  held  the  militia  system  in  very 
considerable  contempt,  which  he  was  often  heard  to  call  in 
joke— for  he  was  sometimes  fond  of  a  joke— governor  Eaeft'S 
broken  reed.  As,  however,  the  present  emergency  was  press- 
ing, he  was  obhged  to  avail  himself  of  such  means  of  defence 
as  were  next  at  hand,  and  accordingly  appointed  a  general  in- 
spection and  parade  of  the  train-bands.  But  oh!  Mars  and 
Bellona,  and  all  ye  other  powers  of  war,  both  great  and  small, 
what  a  turning  out  was  here !— Here  came  men  without  offi- 
cers, and  officers  without  men— long  fowling-pieces,  and  short 
blunderbusses— muskets  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  som,e  ^vithout 
bayonets,  others  without  locks,  others  without  stocks,  and 
many  without  either  lock,  stock  or  barrel— cartridge-boxes, 
shot-belts,  powder-horns,  swords,  hatchets,  snicker-snees, 
crow-bars,  and  broomsticks,  all  mingled  higgledy  piggledy— 
hke  one  of  our  continental  armies  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
revolution. 

This  sudden  transformation  of  a  pacific  community  into  a 
band  of  warriors,  is  doubtless  what  is  meant,  in  modern  days, 
by  "putting  a  nation  in  armour,"  and  "fixing  it  in  an  atti- 
tude"— in  which  armour  and  attitude  it  makes  as  martial  a 
figure,  and  as  likely  to  acquit  itself  with  as  much  prowess  as 
the  renowned  Sancho  Panza,  when  suddenly  equipped  to  de- 
fend his  island  of  Barataria. 

The  sturdy  Peter  eyed  this  ragged  regiment  with  some  such 
rueful  aspect  as  a  man  would  eye  the  devil ;  but  knowing,  hke 
a  wise  man,  that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  make  the  best  out  of  a 


194 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


bad  bargain,  he  determined  to  give  his  heroes  a  seasoning. 

Having,  therefore,  drilled  them  through  the  manual  exercise 
over  and  over  again,  he  ordered  the  fifes  to  strike  up  a  quick 
march,  and  trudged  his  sturdy  troops  backwards  and  forwards 
about  the  streets  of  New- Amsterdam,  and  the  fields  adjacent, 
until  their  short  legs  ached,  and  their  fat  sides  sweated  again. 
But  this  was  not  all;  the  martieil  spirit  of  the  old  governor 
caught  fire  from  the  sprightly  music  of  the  fife,  and  he  resolved 
to  try  the  mettle  of  his  troops,  and  give  them  a  taste  of  the 
hardships  of  iron  war.  To  this  end  he  encamped  them,  as  the 
shades  of  evening  fell,  upon  a  hill  formerly  called  Bunker's 
Hill,  at  some  distance  from  the  town,  with  a  fuU  intention  of 
initiating  them  into  the  discipHne  of  camps,  and  of  renewing, 
the  next  day,  the  toils  and  perils  of  the  field.  But  so  it  came 
to  pass,  that  in  the  night  there  feU  a  great  and  heavy  rain, 
which  descended  in  torrents  upon  the  camp,  and  the  mighty 
army  strangely  melted  away  before  it;  so  that  when  Gaffer 
Phoebus  came  to  shed  his  morning  beams  upon  the  place,  saving 
Peter  Stuyvesant  and  his  trumpeter.  Van  Corlear,  scarce  one 
was  to  be  found  of  aU  the  multitude  that  had  encamped  there 
the  night  before. 

This  awful  dissolution  of  his  army  would  have  appalled  a 
commander  of  less  nerve  than  Peter  Stuyvesant ;  but  he  con- 
sidered it  as  a  matter  of  but  smaU  importance,  though  he 
thenceforward  regarded  the  mihtia  system  with  ten  times 
greater  contempt  than  ever,  and  took  care  to  provide  himself 
with  a  good  garrison  of  chosen  men,  whom  he  kept  in  pay,  of 
whom  he  boasted  that  they  at  least  possessed  the  quality,  in- 
dispensable in  soldiers,  of  being  water-proof. 

The  next  care  of  the  vigilant  Stuyvesant  was  to  strengthen 
and  fortify  New-Amsterdam.  For  this  purpose,  he  caused  to 
be  built  a  strong  picket  fence,  that  reached  across  the  island, 
from  river  to  river,  being  intended  to  protect  the  city  not 
merely  from  the  sudden  invasions  of  foreign  enemies,  but  like- 
wise from  the  incursions  of  the  neighbouring  savages.* 

Some  traditions,  it  is  true,  have  ascribed  the  building  of  this 


*  In  an  antique  view  of  New- Amsterdam,  taken  some  years  after  the  above  period, 
is  a  representation  of  this  wall,  which  stretched  along  the  course  of  Wall-street,  so 
called  in  commemoration  of  this  great  bulwark.  One  gate,  called  the  Land-Poort, 
opened  upon  Broadway,  hard  by  where  at  present  stands  the  Trinity  Church;  and 
another,  called  the  Water-Poort,  stood  about  where  the  Tontine  Coffee-House  is  at 
present — opening  upon  Smits  Vleye,  or  as  it  is  commonly  called,  Smith  Fly,  then  d 
marshy  valley,  with  a  creek  or  inlet  gxteudiug  up  what  we  call  Maiden-lane. 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


195 


wall  to  a  later  period,  but  they  are  wholly  incorrect;  for  a 
memorandum  in  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript,  dated  towards 
the  middle  of  the  governor's  reign,  mentions  this  wall  particu- 
larly, as  a  very  strong  and  curious  piece  of  workmanship,  and 
the  admiration  of  all  the  savages  in  the  neighbourhood.  And 
it  mentions,  moreover,  the  alarming  circumstance  of  a  drove 
of  stray  cows  breaking  through  the  grand  wall  of  a  dark  night ; 
by  which  the  Avhole  community  of  New  Amsterdam  was 
thrown  into  a  terrible  panic. 

In  addition  to  this  great  wall,  he  cast  up  several  outworks  to 
Fort  Amsterdam,  to  protect  the  sea-board,  at  the  point  of  the 
island.  These  consisted  of  formidable  mud  batteries,  solidly 
faced,  after  the  manner  of  the  Dutch  ovens,  common  in  those 
days,  with  clam-shells. 

These  frowning  bulwarks,  in  process  of  time,  came  to  be 
pleasantly  overrun  by  a  verdant  carpet  of  grass  and  clover, 
and  their  high  embankments  overshadowed  by  wide-spreading 
sycamores,  among  vv^hose  foliage  the  little  birds  sported  about, 
rejoicing  the  ear  with  their  melodious  notes.  The  old  burghers 
would  repair  of  an  afternoon  to  smoke  their  pipes  under  the 
shade  of  theii-  branches,  contemplating  the  golden  sun  as  he 
gradually  sunk  into  the  west,  an  emblem  of  that  tranquil  end 
towards  which  themselves  were  hastening— wliilc  the  young 
men  and  the  damsels  of  the  town  would  take  many  a  moon- 
light stroU  among  these  favourite  haunts,  watching  the  silver 
beams  of  chaste  Cynthia  tremble  along  the  cahn  bosom  of  the 
bay,  or  Hght  iip  the  white  sail  of  some  gliding  bark,  and  inter- 
changing the  honest  vows  of  constant  affection.  Such  was  the 
origin  of  that  renowned  walk.  The  Battery,  which,  though 
ostensibly  devoted  to  the  purpose  of  war,  has  ever  been  conse- 
crated to  the  sweet  delights  of  peace.  The  favourite  walk  of 
declining  age — the  healthful  resort  of  the  feeble  invahd — the 
Sunday  refreshment  of  the  dusty  tradesman — the  scene  of 
many  a  bo;^ash  gambol— the  rendezvous  of  many  a  tender  as- 
signation— the  comfort  of  the  citizen — the  ornament  of  Nev- 
York,  and  the  pride  of  the  lovely  island  of  Manna-hata. 


196 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  EAST  COUNTRY  WERE  SUDDENLY 
AFFLICTED  WITH  A  DIABOLICAL  EVIL— AND  THEIR  JUDICIOUS 
MEASURES  FOR  THE  EXTIRPATION  THEREOF. 

Having  thus  provided  for  the  temporary  security  of  New- 
Amsterdam,  and  guarded  it  against  any  sudden  surprise,  the 
gallant  Peter  took  a  hearty  pinch  of  snuff,  and,  snapping  his 
fingers,  set  the  great  council  of  Amphyctions,  and  their  cham- 
pion, the  doughty  Ahcxsander  Partridg,  at  defiance.  It  is  im- 
possible to  say,  notAvithstanding,  what  might  have  been  the  is- 
sue of  this  affair,  had  not  the  council  been  all  at  once  involved 
in  sad  perplexity,  and  as  much  dissension  sown  among  its 
members,  as  of  yore  was  stirred  up  in  the  camp  of  the  brawling 
warriors  of  Greece. 

The  council  of  the  league,  as  I  have  shown  m  my  last  chap- 
ter, had  already  announced  its  hostile  determinations,  and  al- 
ready Avas  the  mighty  colony  of  NcAv-Haven,  and  the  pidssant 
toAvn  of  Piquag,  otherAvise  called  Weatliersfield — famous  for  its 
onions  and  its  witches — and  the  great  trading  house  of  Hartford, 
and  all  the  other  redoubtable  border  towns,  in  a  prodigious  tur- 
moil, furbishing  up  then'  rusty  fowling-pieces,  and  shouting 
aloud  for  war ;  by  which  they  anticipated  easy  conquests,  and 
gorgeous  spoils,  from  the  little  fat  Dutch  viQages.  But  this 
joyous  brawling  was  soon  silenced  by  the  conduct  of  the  colony 
of  Massachusetts.  Struck  Avith  the  gallant  spirit  of  the  brave 
old  Peter,  and  convinced  by  the  chivalric  frankness  and  heroic 
warmth  of  his  vindication,  they  refused  to  belicA^e  him  guilty 
of  the  infamous  plot  most  Avrongfully  laid  at  his  door.  With 
a  generosity  for  wliich  I  would  yield  them  immortal  honour, 
they  declared  that  no  determination  of  the  grand  council  of  the 
league  should  bind  the  general  court  of  Massachusetts  to  join 
in  an  offensiA^e  war  Avliich  should  appear  to  such  general  com*t 
to  be  unjust.* 

This  refusal  immediately  invoh^ed  the  colony  of  Massachu- 
setts and  the  other  combined  colonies  in  A'ery  serious  difficul- 
ties and  disputes,  and  would  no  doubt  haA^e  produced  a  dissolu- 
tion of  the  confederacy,  but  that  the  council  of  Amphyctions, 


*  Haz.  Col.  State  Papers. 


A  JUS  TO  BY  OF  NEW- YORE. 


197 


findinp:  that  they  could  not  stand  alone,  if  mutilated  by  the 
loss  of  so  important  a  member  as  lytassachusetts,  Avere  fain  to 
abandon  for  the  present  their  hostile  machinations  against  the 
Manhattoes.  Such  is  the  marvellous  energy  and  the  puissance 
of  those  confederacies,  composed  of  a  number  of  sturdy,  seK- 
Avilled,  discordant  parts,  loosely  banded  together  by  a  puny 
general  government.  As  it  was,  however,  the  warlike  towns 
of  Connecticut  had  no  cause  to  deplore  this  disappointment  of 
their  martial  ardour ;  for  by  my  faith — though  the  combined 
powers  of  the  league  might  have  been  too  potent,  in  the  end, 
for  the  robustious  warriors  of  the  Manhattoes— yet  in  the  in- 
terhn  would  the  lion-hearted  Peter  and  his  myrmidons  have 
choked  the  stomachful  heroes  of  Piquag  with  then-  own  onions, 
and  have  given  the  other  little  border  towns  such  a  scouring, 
that  I  warrant  they  would  have  had  no  stomach  to  squat  on 
the  land,  or  invade  the  hen-roost  of  a  New-Nederlander,  for  a 
century  to  come. 

Indeed,  there  was  more  than  one  cause  to  divert  the  atten- 
tion of  the  good  people  of  the  east  from  their  hostile  purposes; 
for  just  about  this  time  were  they  horribly  beleaguered  and 
harassed  by  the  inroads  of  the  prince  of  darkness,  divers  of 
whose  liege  subjects  they  detected  lurking  within  their  camp, 
all  of  whom  they  incontinently  roasted  as  so  many  spies  and 
dangerous  enemies.  Not  to  speak  in  parables,  we  are  in- 
formed, that  at  this  juncture  the  New-England  provinces 
were  exceedingly  troubled  by  multitudes  of  losel  A\atches, 
who  wrought  strange  devices  to  beguile  and  distress  the  mul- 
titude; and  notwithstanding  numerous  judicious  and  bloody 
laws  had  been  enacted  against  all  "solemn  conversing  or  com- 
pacting with  the  divil,  by  way  of  conjuracon  or  the  like,"* 
yet  did  the  dark  crime  of  witchcraft  continue  to  increase  to 
an  alarming  degree,  that  would  almost  transcend  belief,  were 
not  the  fact  too  well  authenticated  to  be  even  doubted  for  an 
instant. 

What  is  particularly  worthy  of  admiration  is,  that  this  ter- 
rible art,  which  so  long  has  baffled  the  painful  researches  and 
abstruse  studies  of  philosophers,  astrologers,  alchyniists,  the- 
urgists,  and  other  sages,  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  most  igno- 
rant, decrepit,  and  ugly  old  women  in  the  coramunity,  who 
had  scarcely  more  brains  than  the  broomsticks  they  rode 
upon. 


*  New-Plymouth  Record. 


198  ^  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YOUR. 

When  once  an  alarm  is  sounded,  the  public,  who  love  dearly 
to  be  in  a  panic,  are  not  long  in  want  of  proofs  to  support  it — 
raise  but  the  cry  of  yellow  fever,  and  immediately  every  head- 
ache, and  indigestion,  and  overflowing  of  the  bile,  is  pro- 
nounced the  terrible  epidemic.  In  like  manner,  in  the  pres- 
ent instance,  whoever  was  troubled  with  colic  or  lumbago,  was 
sure  to  be  bewitched;  and  w^oe  to  any  unlucky  old  woman 
that  hved  in  his  neighbourhood.  Such  a  howling  abomination 
could  not  be  suffered  to  remain  long  unnoticed,  and  it  accord- 
ingly soon  attracted  the  fiery  indignation  of  the  sober  and  re> 
flective  part  of  the  community— more  especially  of  those,  who, 
whilome,  had  evinced  so  much  active  benevolence  in  the  con- 
version of  Quakers  and  Anabaptists.  The  grand  council  of 
the  Amphyctions  pubhcly  set  their  faces  against  so  deadly  and 
dangerous  a  sin ;  and  a  severe  scrutiny  took  place  after  those 
nefarious  witches,  who  were  easily  detected  by  devil's  pinches, 
black  cats,  broomsticks,  and  the  circumstance  of  theu*  only 
being  able  to  weep  three  tears,  and  those  out  of  the  left  eye. 

It  is  incredible  the  number  of  offences  that  were  detected, 
"for  every  one  of  which,"  says  the  profound  and  reverend 
Cotton  Mather,  in  that  excellent  work,  the  History  of  New- 
England— "we  have  such  a  sufiicient  evidence,  that  no  rea- 
sonable man  in  this  whole  country  ever  did  question  them ; 
and  it  will  be  unreasonable  to  do  it  in  any  other.'''' 

Indeed,  that  authentic  and  judicious  historian,  John  Jos- 
selyn,  Gent.,  furnishes  us  with  unquestionable  facts  on  this 
subject.  "There  are  none,"  observes  he,  "that  beg  in  tliis 
country,  but  there  be  witches  too  many — bottle-beUied  witches 
and  others,  that  produce  many  strange  apparitions,  if  you  will 
believe  report,  of  a  shallop  at  sea  manned  with  women— and 
of  a  ship,  and  great  red  horse  standing  by  the  mainmast:  the 
ship  being  in  small  cove  to  the  eastward,  vanished  of  a  sud- 
den," etc. 

The  number  of  delinquents,  however,  and  their  magical  de- 
vices, were  not  more  remarkable  than  their  diabohcal  obsti- 
nacy. Though  exhorted  in  the  most  solemn,  pei*suasive,  and 
affectionate  manner,  to  confess  themselves  guilty,  and  be 
bui-nt  for  the  good  of  rehgion,  and  the  entertainment  of  the 
public ;  yet  did  they  most  pertinaciously  pei*sist  in  asserting 
their  innocence.  Such  incredible  obstinacy  was  in  itself  de- 
serving of  immediate  punishment,  and  was  sufficient  proof,  if 


*  Mather's  Hist.  New  Enp.,  b.  6.  eh.  7. 


A  niSTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


199 


proof  were  necessary,  that  they  were  in  league  with  the  devil, 
who  is  perverseness  itself.  But  their  judges  were  just  and 
merciful,  and  were  determined  to  punish  none  that  were  not 
convicted  on  the  best  of  testimony ;  not  that  they  needed  any 
evidence  to  satisfy  their  own  minds,  for,  like  true  and  experi- 
enced judges,  their  minds  were  perfectly  made  up,  and  they 
Y/ere  thorouglily  satisfied  of  the  guilt  of  the  prisoners,  before 
they  proceeded  to  try  them ;  but  still  something  was  necessary 
to  convince  the  community  at  large— to  quiet  those  prying 
quidnuncs  who  should  come  after  them— in  short,  the  world 
must  be  satisfied.  Oh,  the  world — the  world !— all  the  world 
knows  the  world  of  trouble  the  world  is  eternally  occasioning ! 
— The  worthy  judges,  therefore,  were  driven  to  the  necessity 
of  sifting,  detecting,  and  making  evident  as  noon-day,  matters 
which  were  at  the  commencement  all  clearly  understood  and 
firmly  decided  upon  in  their  own  pericraniums  —  so  that  it  may 
truly  be  said  that  the  witches  were  burnt  to  gratify  the  popu- 
lace of  the  day— but  were  tried  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  whole 
world  that  should  come  after  them. 

Finding,  therefore,  that  neither  exhortation,  sound  reason, 
nor  friendly  entreaty  had  any  avail  on  these  hardened  offend- 
ers, they  resorted  to  the  more  urgent  arguments  of  the  tor- 
ture, and  having  thus  absolutely  wrung  the  truth  from  their 
stubborn  lips,  they  condemned  them  to  undergo  the  roasting 
due  unto  the  heinous  crimes  they  had  confessed.  Some  even 
carried  their  perverseness  so  far  as  to  expire  under  the  torture, 
protesting  their  innocence  to  the  last ;  but  these  were  looked 
upon  as  thorouglily  and  absolutely  possessed  by  the  devil,  and 
the  pious  by-standers  only  lamented  that  they  had  not  hved  a 
little  longer,  to  have  i^erished  in  the  flames. 

In  the  city  of  Ephesus,  we  are  told  that  the  plague  was  ex- 
pelled by  stoning  a  ragged  old  beggar  to  death,  whom  Appo- 
lonius  pointed  out  as  being  the  evil  spirit  that  caused  it,  and 
who  actually  showed  himself  to  be  a  demon,  by  changing  into 
a  shagged  dog.  In  like  manner,  and  by  measures  equally  sa- 
gacious, a  salutary  check  was  given  to  this  growing  evil.  The 
witches  were  all  burnt,  banished,  or  panic-struck,  and  in  a 
little  v\rhile  there  was  not  an  ugly  old  woman  to  be  found 
throuo:hout  New-England — which  is  doubtless  one  reason  why 
all  the  young  women  there  are  so  handsome.  Those  honest 
Lo\k  who  had  suffered  from  their  incantations  gradually  recov- 
ered, excepting  such  as  had  been  afflicted  with  twitches  and 
aclies.  which,  however, '  assumed  the  less  alarming  aspect  of 


200 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


rheumatism,  sciatics,  and  lumbagos— and  the  good  people  oi 
New-England,  abandoning  the  study  of  the  occult  sciences, 
turned  their  attention  to  the  more  profitable  hocus-pocus  of 
trade,  and  soon  became  expert  in  the  legerdemain  art  of  turn- 
ing a  penny.  Still,  however,  a  tinge  of  the  old  leaven  is  dis- 
cernible, even  unto  this  day,  in  their  characters — witches  oc 
casionally  start  up  among  them  in  different  disguises,  as 
physicians,  civihans,  and  divines.  The  people  at  large  show 
a  keenness,  a  cleverness,  and  a  profundity  of  wisdom  that 
savours  strongly  of  witchcraft — and  it  has  been  remarked, 
that  whenever  any  stones  fall  from  the  moon,  the  greater  part 
of  them  are  sure  to  tumble  into  New-England  I 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHICH  RECORDS  THE  RISE  AND  RENOWN  OF  A  VALIANT  COM- 
MANDER, SHOWING  THAT  A  MAN,  LIKE  A  BLADDER,  MAY  BE 
PUFFED  UP  TO  GREATNESS  AND  IMPORTANCE  BY  MERE  WIND. 

When  treating  of  these  tempestuous  times,  the  unknown 
writer  of  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript  breaks  out  into  a  vehe- 
ment apostrophe,  in  praise  of  the  good  St.  Nicholas ;  to  whose 
protectmg  care  he  entirely  ascribes  the  strange  dissensions 
that  broke  out  in  the  council  of  the  Amphyctions,  and  the 
direful  witchcraft  that  prevailed  in  the  east  country— whereby 
the  hostile  machinations  against  the  Nederlanders  were  for  a 
time  frustrated,  and  his  favourite  city  of  New-Amsterdam 
preserved  from  unminent  peril  and  deadly  warfare.  Darkness 
and  lowering  superstition  hung  over  the  fail'  valleys  of  the 
east ;  the  pleasant  banks  of  the  Connecticut  no  longer  echoed 
with  the  sounds  of  rustic  gayety;  direful  phantoms  and  por 
teutons  apparitions  were  seen  in  the  ah*— ghding  spectrums 
haunted  every  wild  brook  and  dreary  glen— strange  voices, 
made  by  viewless  forms,  were  heard  in  desert  solitudes  - and 
the  border  towns  were  so  occupied  in  detecting  and  punishing 
the  knowing  old  women  who  had  produced  these  alarming  ap- 
pearances, that  for  a  while  the  province  of  Nieuw-Nedeiiandt 
and  its  inhabitants  were  totally  forgotten. 

The  fn-eat  Peter,  therefore,  finding  that  nothing  was  to  be 
immediately  apprehended  from  his  eastern  neighbours,  turned 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


201 


himself  about,  with  a  praiseworthy  vigilance  that  ever  dis- 
tinguished him,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  insults  of  the  Swedes. 
These  freeboo'  ers,  my  attentive  reader  will  recollect,  had  be- 
gun to  be  very  troublesome  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  reign 
of  William  the  Testy,  having  set  the  proclamations  of  that 
doughty  little  governor  at  nought,  and  put  the  intrepid  Jan 
Jaiisen  Alpendam  to  a  perfect  nonplus ! 

Peter  Stuyvesant,  however,  as  has  already  been  shown,  was 
a  governor  of  different  habits  and  turn  of  mind — without  more 
ado,  he  hnmediately  issued  orders  for  raising  a  corps  of  troops 
to  be  stationed  on  the  southern  frontier,  under  the  command 
of  brigadier-general  Jacobus  Van  Poffenburgh.  This  illustri- 
ous warrior  had  risen  to  great  importance  during  the  reign  of 
WiUielmus  Kieft,  and  if  histories  speak  true,  was  second  in 
command  to  the  hapless  Van  Curlet,  when  he  and  his  ragged 
regiment  were  inhumanly  kicked  out  of  Fort  Good  Hope  by 
the  Yankees.  In  consequence  of  having  been  in  such  a  "mem- 
orable affair,"  and  of  having  received  more  wounds  on  a  cer- 
tain honourable  part  that  shah  be  nameless  than  any  of  his 
comrades,  he  was  ever  after  considered  as  a  hero,  who  had 
"seen  some  service."  Certain  it  is,  he  enjoyed  the  unhmited 
confidence  and  f riendsiiip  of  William  the  Testy ;  who  would 
sit  for  hours,  and  hsten  with  wonder  to  his  gunpowder  narra- 
tives of  surprising  victories — he  had  never  gained ;  and  dread- 
ful battles — from  which  he  had  run  away. 

It  was  tropically  observed  by  honest  old  Socrates,  that 
heaven  had  infused  into  some  men  at  their  birth  a  portion  of 
intellectual  gold ;  into  others  of  intellectual  silver ;  while  others 
were  bounteously  furnished  out  with  abundance  of  brass  and 
iron -now  of  this  last  class  was  undoubtedly  the  great  Gen- 
eral Van  Poffenburgh;  and  from  the  display  he  continually 
made  thereof,  I  am  inchned  to  think  that  dame  Nature,  who 
will  sometimes  be  partial,  had  blessed  him  with  enough  of 
those  valuable  materials  to  have  fitted  up  a  dozen  ordinary 
braziers.  But  what  is  most  to  be  admired  is,  that  he  contrived 
to  pass  off  all  liis  brass  and  copper  upon  Willielmus  Kieft,  who 
was  no  great  judge  of  base  coin,  as  pure  and  genuine  gold. 
The  consequence  was,  that  upon  the  resignation  of  Jacobus 
Van  Curlet,  who,  after  the  loss  of  Fort  Good  Hope,  retired, 
hke  a  veteran  general,  to  live  under  the  shade  of  his  laurels, 
the  mighty  "copper  captain"  was  promoted  to  his  station. 
This  he  filled  with  great  importance,  always  styling  himself 
commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  New  Netherlands ;"  though, 


202 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


to  tell  the  truth,  the  armies,  or  rather  army,  consisted  of  a 
handful  o£  hen-stealing,  bottle-bruising  ragamuffins. 

Such  was  the  character  of  the  warrior  appointed  by  Peter 
Stuyvesant  to  defend  his  southern  frontier;  nor  may  it  be  un- 
interesting to  my  reader  to  have  a  glimpse  of  his  person.  He 
was  not  very  tall,  but  notwithstanding,  a  huge,  full-bodied 
man,  whose  bulk  did  not  so  much  arise  from  his  being  fat,  as 
windy,  being  so  completely  inflated  with  his  own  importance, 
that  he  resembled  one  of  those  bags  of  wmd  which  Jb^olus,  in 
an  incredible  fit  of  generosity,  gave  to  that  wandering  warrior 
Ulysses. 

His  dress  comported  with  his  character,  for  he  had  almost 
as  much  brass  and  copper  without  as  nature  had  stored  away 
within — his  coat  was  crossed  and  slashed,  and  carbonadoed 
with  stripes  of  copper  lace,  and  swa.thed  round  the  body  with 
a  crimson  sash,  of  the  size  and  texture  of  a  fishing-net,  doubt- 
less to  keep  his  valiant  heart  from  bursting  through  his  ribs. 
His  head  and  whiskers  were  profusely  powdered,  from  the 
midst  of  which  his  full-blooded  face  glowed  like  a  fiery  fur- 
nace ;  and  his  magnanimous  soul  seemed  ready  to  bounce  out 
at  a  pair  of  large,  glassy,  bhnking  eyes,  which  projected  like 
those  of  a  lobster. 

I  swear  to  thee,  worthy  reader,  if  report  belie  not  this  war- 
rior, I  would  give  all  the  money  in  my  pocket  to  have  seen 
him  accoutred  cap-a-pie,  in  martial  array — booted  to  the  mid- 
dle—sashed to  the  chin— collared  to  the  ears— whiskered  to  the 
teeth— crowned  with  an  overshadowing  cocked  hat,  and  girded 
with  a  leathern  belt  ten  inches  broad,  from  which  trailed  a 
falchion,  of  a  length  that  I  dare  not  mention.  Thus  equipped, 
he  strutted  about,  as  bitter-looking  a  man  of  war  as  the  far- 
famed  More  of  Move  Hall,  when  he  salUed  forth,  armed  at  all 
points,  to  slay  the  Dragon  of  Wantley.* 

Notwithstanding  all  these  great  endowments  and  transcend^ 
ent  qualities  of  this  renowned  general,  I  must  confess  he  was 
not  exactly  the  kind  of  man  that  the  gallant  Peter  would  have 

*  "  Had  you  but  seen  him  in  his  dress, 
How  fierce  he  look'd  and  Jiow  big; 
You  would  have  thought  him  for  to  be 
Some  Egyptian  Porcupig. 

"  He  frighted  all,  cats,  dogs,  and  all, 
Each  cow,  each  liorse,  and  each  hog; 
For  fear  they  did  flee,  for  they  took  him  to  be 
Some  strange  outlandish  hedge-hog." 

-  Ballad  of  Drag,  of  Want- 


A  UISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


203 


chosen  to  command  his  troops — but  the  truth  is,  that  in  those 
days  the  province  did  not  abound,  as  at  present,  in  great  mih- 
tary  characters ;  who,  hke  so  many  Cincinnatuses,  people  every 
little  village — marshalling  out  cabbages  instead  of  soldiers,  and 
signalizing  themselves  in  the  corn-field,  instead  of  the  field  of 
battle ; — who  have  surrendered  the  toils  ol  war  for  the  moie 
useful  but  inglorious  arts  of  peace ;  and  so  blended  the  laurel 
with  the  olive,  that  you  may  have  a  general  for  a  landlord,  a 
colonel  for  a  stage-driver,  and  your  horse  shod  by  a  valiant 
"  captain  of  volunteers. "  The  redoubtable  General  Van  Poffen- 
burgh,  therefore,  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  new- 
levied  troops,  cliiefiy  because  there  were  no  competitors  for  the 
station,  and  partly  because  it  would  have  been  a  breach  of 
military  etiquette  to  have  appointed  a  younger  officer  over  his 
head — an  injustice  which  the  great  Peter  would  have  rather 
died  than  have  committed. 

No  sooner  did  this  thrice-valiant  copper  captain  receive 
marching  orders,  than  he  conducted  his  army  undauntedly  to 
the  southern  frontier ;  through  wild  lands  and  savage  deserts ; 
over  insurmountable  mountains,  across  impassable  floods,  and 
through  impenetrable  forests;  subduing  a  vast  tract  of  unin- 
habited country,  and  encountering  more  perils,  according  to  his 
own  account,  than  did  ever  the  great  Xenophon  in  his  far- 
famed  retreat  with  his  ten  thousand  Grecians.  All  this  ac- 
complished, he  established  on  the  South  (or  Delaware)  river,  a 
redoubtable  redoubt,  named  Fort  Casimir,  in  honour  of  a 
favourite  pair  of  brimstone-coloured  trunk  breeches  of  the 
governor.  As  this  fort  will  be  found  to  give  rise  to  very  im- 
portant and  interesting  events,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  notice 
that  it  was  afterwards  called  Nieuw-Amstel,  and  w^as  the  ori- 
ginal germ  of  the  present  flourishing  town  of  New-Castle, 
an  appellation  erroneously  substituted  for  No  Castle^  there 
neither  being,  nor  ever  having  been,  a  castle,  or  any  thing  of 
the  kind,  upon  the  premises. 

The  Swedes  did  not  suffer  tamely  this  menacing  movement 
of  the  Nederlanders ;  on  the  contrary,  Jan  Printz,  at  that  time 
governor  of  New-Sweden,  issued  a  protest  against  what  he 
termed  an  encroachment  upon  his  jurisdiction.  But  Van  Pof- 
fcnburgb  had  become  too  well  versed  in  the  nature  of  procla- 
mations and  protests,  while  he  served  under  William  the  Testy, 
to  be  in  any  wise  daunted  by  such  papcsr  warfare.  His  fortress 
being  finished,  it  would  have  done  any  man's  heart  good  to  be- 
hold into  what  a  magnitude  he  inmiediately  swelled.  He  would 


204 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


stride  in  and  out  a  dozen  times  a  day,  surveying  it  in  front  and 
in  rear ;  on  this  side  and  on  that.  Then  would  he  dress  himself  in 
full  regimentals,  and  strut  backwards  and  forwards,  for  hours 
together,  on  the  top  of  Ms  little  rampart — like  a  vain-glorious 
cock-pigeon,  vapouring  on  the  top  of  his  coop.  In  a  Avord,  un- 
less my  readers  have  noticed,  with  curious  eye,  the  petty  com- 
mander 01  one  of  our  little,  snivelling  mihtary  j)Osts,  SAvelhng 
with  all  the  vanity  of  new  regimentals,  and  the  pomposity 
derived  from  commanding  a  handful  of  tatterdemahons,  I  de- 
spair of  giving  them  any  adequate  idea  of  the  prodigious  dig- 
nity of  General  Von  Poffenburgh. 

It  is  recorded,  in  the  delectable  romance  of  Pierce  Forest,  that 
a  young  knight  being  dubbed  by  king  Alexander,  did  inconti- 
nently gallop  into  an  adjoining  forest,  and  belaboured  the  trees 
with  such  might  and  main,  that  the  whole  court  was  convmced 
that  he  was  the  most  potent  and  courageous  gentleman  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  In  like  manner  the  great  Van  Poffenburgh 
would  ease  oft  that  valorous  spleen,  which  like  wind  is  so  apt  to 
grow  so  unruly  in  the  stomachs  of  new-made  soldiers,  unpel- 
hng  them  to  box-lobby  brawls  and  broken-headed  quarrels. 
For  at  such  times,  when  he  found  his  martial  spirit  waxing  hot 
withm  him,  he  would  prudently  sally  forth  into  the  fields,  and 
lugging  out  his  trusty  sabre,  would  lay  about  him  most  lustily, 
decapitating  cabbages  by  platoons ;  hewing  down  whole  pha- 
lanxes of  sunflowers,  v/hich  he  termed  gigantic  Swedes ;  and  if, 
peradventure,  he  espied  a  colony  of  honest,  big-belhed  pump- 
kins quietly  basking  themselves  in  the  sun,  ' '  Ah,  caitiff  Yan- 
kees," would  he  roar,  "have  I  caught  ye  at  last?" — so  saymg, 
with  one  sweep  of  his  sword,  he  would  cleave  the  unhappy 
vegetables  from  their  chins  to  their  waistbands ;  by  which  war- 
like havoc  his  choler  being  in  some  sort  allayed,  he  would 
return  to  his  garrison  with  a  full  conviction  that  he  was  a  very 
miracle  of  military  prowess. 

The  next  ambition  of  General  Van  Poffenburgh  was  to  be 
thought  a  strict  disciplinarian.  Well  knowing  that  disci- 
pline is  the  soul  of  all  mihtarj?"  enterprise,  he  enforced  it  with 
the  most  rigorous  precision;  obliging  every  man  to  tiu'n  out 
his  toes  and  hold  up  his  head  on  parade,  and  prescribing  the 
breadth  of  their  ruffles  to  all  such  as  had  any  shirts  to  their 
backs. 

Having  one  day,  in  the  course  of  his  devout  researches  in 
the  Bible,  (for  the  pious  Eneas  himself  could  not  exceed  him  in 
outward  religion,)  encountered  the_history  of  Absalom  and  his 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW-YOBK 


205 


melancholy  end,  the  general,  in  an  evil  hour,  issued  orders  for 
cropping  the  hair  of  both  officers  and  men  throughout  the  gar- 
rison. Now  it  came  to  pass,  that  among  his  ofiicers  was  one 
Kildermecster,  a  sturdy  veteran,  who  had  cherished,  through 
the  course  of  a  long  life,  a  rugged  mop  of  hair,  not  a  little  re- 
sembling the  shag  of  a  Newfoundland  dog,  terminating  with 
an  immoderate  queue  like  the  handle  of  a  frying-pan;  and 
queued  so  tightly  to  his  head,  that  his  eyes  and  mouth  gener- 
ally stood  ajar,  and  his  eyebrows  were  drawn  up  to  the  top  of 
his  forehead.  It  may  naturally  be  supposed  that  the  possessor 
of  so  goodly  an  appendage  would  resist  with  abhorrence  an 
order  condemning  it  to  the  shears.  On  hearing  the  general 
orders,  he  discharged  a  tempest  of  veteran,  soldier-like  oaths, 
and  dunder  and  blixums — swore  he  would  break  any  man's 
head  who  attempted  to  meddle  with  his  tail — queued  it  stiffer 
than  ever,  and  whisked  it  about  the  garrison  as  fiercely  as  the 
tail  of  a  crocodile. 

The  eel-skin  queue  of  old  Kildermeester  became  instantly  an 
affair  of  the  utmost  importance.  The  commander-in-chief  was 
too  enlightened  an  officer  not  to  perceive  that  the  discipline  of 
I  the  garrison,  the  subordination  and  good  order  of  the  armies 
of  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts,  the  consequent  safety  of  the  whole 
province,  and  ultimately  the  dignity  and  prosperity  of  their 
High  Mightmesses,  the  Lords  States  General,  but  above  all,  the 
dignity  of  the  great  General  Van  Pofienburgh,  all  imperiously 
demanded  the  docldng  of  that  stubborn  queue.  He  therefore 
.  determined  that  old  Kildermeester  should  be  publicly  shorn  of 
his  glories  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  garrison — the  old  man 
as  resolutely  stood  on  the  defensive — whereupon  the  general, 
as  became  a  great  man,  was  highly  exasperated,  and  the  offen- 
der was  arrested  and  tried  by  a  court-martial  for  mutiny,  de- 
sertion, and  all  the  other  list  of  offences  noticed  in  the  articles 
of  war,  ending  with  a  ' '  videlicet,  in  wearing  an  eel-skin  queue, 
three  feet  long,  contrary  to  orders." — Then  came  on  arraign- 
ments, and  trials,  and  pleadings ;  and  the  whole  country  was  in 
a  ferment  about  this  unfortunate  queue.  As  it  is  well  known 
that  the  commander  of  a  distant  frontier  post  has  the  power  of 
acting  pretty  much  after  his  own  will,  there  is  little  doubt  that 
the  veteran  Avould  have  been  hanged  or  shot  at  least,  had  he 
not  Idckily  fallen  ill  of  a  fever,  through  mere  chagrin  and  mor- 
tification—and most  flagitiously  deserted  from  all  earthly  com- 
mand, with  his  beloved  locks  unviolated.  His  obstinacy  re- 
mained imshaken  to  the  very  last  moment,  when  he  directed 


206 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


that  he  should  be  carried  to  his  grave  vrith  his  eel-skin  queue 
sticking  out  of  a  hole  in  his  cofifm. 

This  magnanimous  affair  obtained  the  general  great  credit  as 
an  excellent  disciphnarian,  but  it  is  hinted  that  he  was  ever 
after  subject  to  bad  dreams  and  fearful  visitations  in  the  night 
— when  the  grizzly  spectrum  of  old  Kildermeester  would  stand 
sentinel  by  his  bed-side,  erect  as  a  pmnp,  his  enormous  queur 
strutting  out  like  the  handle. 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


207 


BOOK  VI. 

CAPTAINING  THE  SECOND  TART  OF  THE  REIGN  OF 
rETER  THE  HEADSTRONG,  AND  HIS  GAILANT 
ACHIEVEMENTS  ON  THE  DEI  A  WARE, 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  WHICH  IS  EXHIBITED  A  WARLIKE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  GREAT 
PETER— AND  HOW  GENERAL  VAN  POFFENBURGH  DISTINGUISHED 
HIMSELF  AT  FORT  CASIMIR. 

Hitherto,  most  venerable  and  courteous  reader,  have  I 
shown  thee  the  administration  of  the  valorous  Stuyvesant, 
under  the  nuld  moonshine  of  peace,  or  rather  the  grim  tran- 
quillity of  awful  expectation ;  but  now  the  war-drum  rumbles 
from  afar,  the  brazen  trumpet  brays  its  thrilhng  note,  and  the 
rude  clash  of  hostile  arms  speaks  fearful  prophecies  of  eoming 
troubles.  The  gallant  warrior  starts  from  soft  repose,  from 
golden  visions,  and  voluptuous  ease;  where,  in  the  dulcet, 
*' piping  time  of  peace,"  he  sought  sweet  solace  after  aU  his 
toUs.  No  more  ia  beauty's  syren  lap  reclined,  he  weaves  fair 
garlands  for  his  lady's  brows ;  no  more  entwines  with  flowers 
his  shining  sword,  nor  through  the  live-long  lazy  sununer's  day 
chants  forth  his  lovesick  soul  in  madrigals.  To  manhood 
roused,  he  spurns  the  amorous  flute;  doffs  from  his  brawny 
back  the  robe  of  peace,  and  clothes  his  pampered  limbs  in 
panoply  of  steel.  O'er  his  dark  brow,  where  late  the  myrtle 
waved,  where  wanton  roses  breathed  enervate  love,  he  rears 
the  beaming  casque  and  nodding  plume;  grasps  the  bright 
shield  and  shakes  the  ponderous  lance ;  or  mounts  with  eager 
pride  his  fiery  steed,  and  burns  for  deeds  of  glorious  chivalry ! 

But  soft,  worthy  reader!  I  would  not  have  you  imagine, 
that  any  preiix  chevalier,  thus  hideously  begirt,  with  iron, 
existed  in  the  city  of  New- Amsterdam.  This  is  but  a  lofty  and 
gigantic  mode  in  which  heroic  writers  always  taLk  of  war, 
thereby  to  give  it  a  noble  and  imposing  aspect ;  equipping  our 


208 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORE, 


warriors  witli  bucklers,  helms,  and  lances,  and  such  like  out- 
landish and  obsolete  weapons,  the  like  of  which  perchance  they 
had  never  seen  or  heard  of ;  in  the  same  mamier  that  a  cunning 
statuary  arrays  a  modern  general  or  an  admiral  in  the  ac- 
coutrements of  a  Csesar  or  an  Alexander.  The  simple  truth, 
tlien,  of  all  this  oratorical  flourish  is  this — that  the  valiant 
Potcr  Stuy  vesant  all  of  a  sudden  found  it  necessary  to  sco!i< 
his  trusty  blade,  wliich  too  long  had  rusted  in  its  scabbard, 
and  prepare  himself  to  undergo  those  hardy  toils  of  war  in 
which  bis  mighty  soul  so  much  dehghted. 

Methinks  I  at  this  moment  behold  him  in  my  imagination— 
or  rather,  I  behold  his  goodly  portrait,  which  still  hangs  up  in 
the  family  mansion  of  the  Stuy vesants— arrayed  in  all  the  ter- 
rors of  a  true  Dutch  general.  His  regimental  coat  of  German 
blue,  gorgeously  decorated  with  a  goodly  show  of  large  brass 
buttons  reaching  from  his  waistband  to  his  chin.  The  volum- 
inous skirts  turned  up  at  the  corners,  and  separating  gallantly 
behind,  so  as  to  display  the  seat  of  a  sumptuous  pair  of  brim- 
stone-coloured trunk  breeches— a  graceful  style  still  prevalent 
among  the  warriors  of  our  day,  and  which  is  in  conformity  to 
the  custom  of  ancient  heroes,  who  scorned  to  defend  themselves 
in  the  rear.  His  face  rendered  exceedingly  terrible  and  war- 
like by  a  pair  of  black  mustachios ;  his  hair  strutting  out  on 
each  side  in  stiffly  pomatumed  ear-locks,  and  descending  in  a 
rat-tail  queue  below  his  waist ;  a  shining  stock  of  black  leather 
supporting  his  chin,  and  a  little  but  fierce  cocked  hat  stuck 
with  a  gallant  and  fiery  air  over  his  left  eye.  Such  was  the 
chivalric  port  of  Peter  the  Headstrong ;  and  when  he  made  a 
sudden  halt,  planted  himself  firmly  on  his  solid  supporter,  with 
his  wooden  leg  inlaid  with  silver,  a  little  in  advance,  in  order 
to  strengthen  his  position,  his  right  hand  grasping  a  gold- 
headed  cane,  his  left  resting  upon  the  pummel  of  his  sword  ; 
his  head  dressing  spiritedly  to  the  right,  with  a  most  appaUing 
and  hard-favoured  frown  upon  his  brow — he  presented  al- 
together one  of  the  most  commanding,  bitter-looking,  and 
soldier-like  figures  that  ever  strutted  upon  canvas.  Proceed 
we  now  to  inquire  the  cause  of  this  warlike  preparation. 

The  encroaching  disposition  of  the  Swedes,  on  the  South,  or 
Delaware  river,  has  been  duly  recorded  in  the  chronicles  of 
the  reign  of  William  the  Testy.  These  encroachments  having 
been  endured  with  that  heroic  magnanimity  which  is  the 
corner-stone  of  true  courage,  had  been  repeatedly  and  wickedly 
aggravated. 


A  JIISTORY  OF  NKW  YORK. 


209 


llie  Swedes,  v^rho  were  of  that  class  of  cunning  pretenders 
to  Christianity,  who  read  the  Bible  upside-down,  whenever  it 
interferes  with  their  interests,  inverted  the  golden  maxijn,  and 
when  their  neighbour  suffered  them  to  smite  him  on  the  one 
cheek,  they  generally  smote  him  on  the  other  also,  whether 
tiu-ned  to  them  or  not.  Their  repeated  aggressions  had  been 
among  the  numerous  sources  of  vexation  that  conspired  to  keep 
the  irritable  sensibilities  of  Wilhelmus  Kieft  in  a  constairo  fever, 
and  it  was  only  owing  to  the  unfortunate  circumstance,  that  he 
had  always  a  hundred  things  to  do  at  once,  that  he  did  not  take 
siicli  unrelenting  vengeance  as  their  offences  merited.  But 
they  had  now  a  chieftain  of  a  different  character  to  deal  with ; 
and  they  were  soon  guilty  of  a  piece  of  treachery,  that  threw 
his  honest  blood  into  a  ferment,  and  precluded  all  further 
sufferance. 

Printz,  the  governor  of  the  province  of  New-Sweden,  being 
either  deceased  or  removed,  for  of  this  fact  some  uncertainty 
exists,  was  succeeded  by  Jan  Eisingh,  a  gigantic  Swede,  and  v»^ho, 
had  he  not  been  rather  knock-kneed  and  splay-footed,  might 
have  served  for  the  model  of  a  Samson  or  a  Hercules.  He  was 
no  less  rapacious  than  mighty,  and  withal  as  crafty  as  he  was 
rapacious;  so  that,  in  fact,  there  is  very  little  doubt,  had  he 
Hved  some  four  or  five  centuries  before,  he  would  have  been 
one  of  those  wicked  giants,  who  took  such  a  cruel  pleasure  in 
pocketing  distressed  damsels,  when  gadding  about  the  world, 
and  locking  them  up  in  enchanted  castles,  without  a  toilet,  a 
change  of  linen,  or  any  other  convenience — in  consequence  of 
which  enormities,  they  fell  under  the  high  displeasure  of 
chivalry,  and  all  true,  loyal,  and  gallant  knights  were  instructed 
to  attack  and  slay  outright  any  miscreant  they  might  happen 
to  find,  above  six  feet  high ;  which  is  doubtless  one  reason  that 
the  race  of  large  men  is  nearly  extinct,  and  the  generations  of 
latter  ages  so  exceeding  small. 

No  sooner  did  Governor  Eisingh  enter  upon  his  office,  than 
he  immediately  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  important  post  of  Fort 
Casimir,  and  formed  the  righteous  resolution  of  taking  it  into 
his  possession.  The  only  thing  that  remained  to  consider,  was 
the  mode  of  carrying  his  resolution  into  effect;  and  here  I  must 
do  him  the  justice  to  say,  that  he  exhibited  a  humanity  rarely 
to  be  met  with  among  leadei*s,  and  w-hich  I  have  never  seen 
equalled  in  modern  times,  excepting  among  the  English,  in 
their  glorious  affair  at  Copenhagen.  Willing  to  spare  the 
effusion  of  blood,  and  the  miseries  of  open  warfare,  he  benevo- 


210 


A  HIS  TOE  Y  OF  NEW  TORK. 


lently  shunned  everything  like  avowed  hostihty  or  regular 
siege,  and  resorted  to  the  less  glorious,  but  more  merciful 
expedient  of  treachery. 

Under  pretence,  therefore,  of  paying  a  neighbourly  visit  to 
General  Van  Poffenburgh,  at  his  new  post  of  Fort  Casimir,  he 
made  requisite  preparation,  sailed  in  great  state  up  the  Dela- 
ware, displayed  his  flag  with  the  most  ceremonious  punctilio, 
and  honoured  the  fortress  with  a  royal  salute,  previous  to 
dropping  anchor.  The  unusual  noise  awakened  a  veteran 
Dutch  sentinel,  who  was  napping  faithfully  at  his  post,  and 
who,  ha^dng  suffered  his  match  to  go  out,  contrived  to  return 
the  compliment,  by  discharging  his  rusty  musket  with  the 
spark  of  a  pipe,  which  he  borrowed  from  one  of  his  comrades. 
The  salute  indeed  would  have  been  answered  by  the  gims  of  the 
fort,  had  they  not  imf ortunately  been  out  of  order,  and  the  mag- 
azine deficient  in  ammunition — accidents  to  which  forts  have 
in  all  ages  been  liable,  and  w^hich  were  the  more  excusable 
in  the  present  instance,  as  Fort  Casimir  had  only  been  erected 
about  two  years,  and  General  Van  Poffenburgh,  its  mighty 
commander,  had  been  fully  occupied  with  matters  of  much 
greater  importance. 

Eisingh,  highly  satisfied  with  this  courteous  reply  to  his 
salute,  treated  the  fort  to  a  second,  for  he  well  knew  its  com- 
mander was  marvellously  delighted  with  these  httle  ceremo- 
nials, which  he  considered  as  so  many  acts  of  homage  paid 
unto  his  greatness.  ■  He  then  landed  in  great  state,  attended 
by  a  suite  of  thirty  men — a  prodigious  and  vain-glorious 
retinue,  for  a  petty  governor  of  a  petty  settlement,  in  those 
days  of  primitive  simplicity ;  and  to  the  full  as  great  an  army 
as  generally  swells  the  pomp  and  marches  in  the  rear  of  our 
frontier  commanders,  at  the  present  day. 

The  number,  in  fact,  might  have  awakened  suspicion,  had 
not  the  mind  of  the  great  Van  Poffenburgh  been  so  completely 
engrossed  with  an  all-pervading  idea  of  himself,  that  he  had 
not  room  to  admit  a  thought  besides.  In  fact,  he  considered  the 
concourse  of  Risingh's  followers  as  a  compliment  to  himself— 
so  apt  are  great  men  to  stand  between  themselves  and  the  sun, 
and  completely  eclipse  the  truth  by  their  own  shadow. 

It  may  readily  be  imagined  how  much  General  Van  Poffen- 
burgh was  flattered  by  a  visit  from  so  august  a  personage ;  his 
only  embarrassment  was,  how  he  should  receive  him  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  appear  to  the  greatest  advantage,  and  make  the 
most  advantageous  impression.    The  main  guard  was  ordered 


A  HISTORY  OF  NbJW-YORK. 


211 


immediately  to  turn  out,  and  the  arms  and  regimentals  (of 
wliich  the  garrison  possessed  full  half-a-dozen  suits)  were 
equally  distributed  among  the  soldiers.  One  tall  lank  fellow 
appeared  in  a  coat  intended  for  a  small  man,  the  skirts  of 
which  reached  a  little  below  his  waist,  the  buttons  were 
between  his  shoulders,  and  the  sleeves  half-way  to  his  wrists, 
so  that  his  hands  lool^ed  hke  a  couple  of  huge  spades— and  the 
coat,  not  being  large  enough  to  meet  in  front,  was  linked 
together  by  loops,  made  of  a  pair  of  red  worsted  garters.  An- 
other had  an  old  cocked  hat  stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
decorated  with  a  bunch  of  cocks'  tails — a  third  had  a  pair  of 
rusty  gaiters  hanging  about  his  heels— while  a  fourth,  who  was 
short  and  duck-legged,  was  equipped  in  a  huge  pair  of  the  gen- 
eral's cast-off  breeches,  which  he  held  up  with  one  hand,  while 
he  grasped  liis  firelock  with  the  other.  The  rest  were  accoutred 
in  similar  style,  excepting  three  graceless  ragamuffins,  who 
had  no  shirts,  and  but  a  pair  and  a  half  of  breeches  between 
them,  wherefore  they  were  sent  to  the  black  hole  to  keep  them 

'  out  of  view.  There  is  nothing  in  which  the  talents  of  a  pru- 
dent conmiander  are  more  completely  testified,  than  in  thus 
setting  matters  off  to  the  greatest  advantage ;  and  it  is  for  this 
reason  that  our  frontier  posts  of  the  present  day  (that  of 

I  Niagara  for  example)  display  their  best  suit  of  regimentals  on 
the  back  of  the  sentinel  who  stands  in  sight  of  travellers. 

His  men  being  thus  gallantly  arrayed— those  who  lacked 
muskets  shouldering  spades  and  pickaxes,  and  every  man 
being  ordered  to  tuck  in  his  shirt-tail  and  pull  up  his  brogues 
—General  Van  Poflenburgh  first  took  a  sturdy  draught  of 
foaming  ale,  which,  Hke  the  magnanimous  More  of  Morehall,* 
was  his  invariable  practice  on  all  gTcat  occasions— which  done, 
he  put  himself  at  their  head,  ordered  the  pine  planks,  which 
served  as  a  draw-bridge,  to  be  laid  down,  and  issued  fortli 
from  liis  castle  like  a  mighty  giant  just  refreshed  with  wine. 
But  when  the  two  heroes  met,  then  began  a  scene  of  warlike 
parade  and  chivalric  courtesy  that  beggars  all  description— 
Risingh,  who,  as  I  before  hinted,  was  a  shrewd,  cunning  poh- 
tician,  and  had  grown  gray  much  before  his  time,  in  conse- 
quence of  liis  craftiness,  saw  at  one  glance  the  ruhng  passion 


 as  soon  as  he  rose, 

To  make  liim  stronj^  and  mighty, 

He  drank  by  the  tale,  six  pots  of  ale 
And  a  quart  of  aqua-vita^." 


212 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


of  the  great  Van  Poffenburgh,  and  humoured  hiin  in  all  his 
valorous  fantasies. 

Their  detachments  were  accordingly  drawn  up  in  front  of 
each  other ;  they  carried  arms  and  they  presented  arms ;  they 
gave  the  standing  salute  and  the  passing  salute — they  rolled 
their  drums  and  flourished  their  fifes,  and  they  waved  their 
colours — they  faced  to  the  left,  and  they  faced  to  the  right,  and 
they  faced  to  the  right  about— they  wheeled  forward,  and  they 
wheeled  backward,  and  they  wheeled  into  echeUon — they 
marched  and  they  countermarched,  by  grand  divisions,  by 
single  divisions,  and  by  sub-divisions— by  platoons,  by  sections, 
and  by  files— in  quick  time,  in  slow  time,  and  in  no  time  at 
all :  for,  having  gone  through  all  the  evolutions  of  two  great 
armies,  including  the  eighteen  manoeuvres  of  Dundas,  having 
exhausted  all  that  they  coidd  recollect  or  imagine  of  mihtary 
tactics,  including  sundry  strange  and  irregular  evolutions,  the 
lil^:e  of  wliich  was  never  seen  before  nor  since,  excepting  among 
certain  of  our  newly-raised  militia,  the  two  great  commanders 
and  their  respective  troops  came  at  length  to  a  dead  halt,  com- 
pletely exhausted  by  the  toils  of  war.  Never  did  two  vahant 
train-band  captains,  or  two  buskined  theatric  heroes,  in  the  re- 
nowned tragedies  of  Pizarro,  Tom  Thumb,  or  any  other 
heroical  and  fighting  tragedy,  marshal  then*  gallows-looking, 
duck-legged,  heavy-heeled  myrmidons  with  more  glory  and 
self -admiration. 

These  military  compliments  being  finished.  General  Van 
Poffenburgh  escorted  his  illustrious  visitor,  with  gi^eat  cere- 
mony, into  the  fort;  attended  Mm  throughout  the  fortifica- 
tions ;  showed  him  the  horn- works,  crown- works,  half -moons, 
and  various  other  outworks ;  or  rather  the  places  where  they 
ought  to  be  erected,  and  where  they  might  be  erected  if  he 
pleased ;  plainly  demonstrating  that  it  was  a  place  of  ' '  great 
capability,"  and  though  at  present  but  a  httle  redoubt,  yet 
that  it  evidently  was  a  formidable  fortress,  in  embryo.  This 
sui'vey  over,  he  next  had  the  whole  garrison  put  under  arms, 
exercised  and  reviewed,  and  concluded  by  ordering  the  three 
Bridewell  birds  to  be  hauled  out  of  the  black  hole,  brought 
up  to  the  halberts  and  soundly  flogged  for  the  amusement  of 
his  visitor,  and  to  convince  him  that  he  was  a  great  discipli- 
naricwi. 

The  cunning  Eisingh,  while  he  pretended  to  be  struck  dumb 
outright,  with  the  puissance  of  the  great  Van  Poffenburgh, 
took  silent  note  of  the  incompetency  of  his  p'ai-rison,  of  which 


A  HISTORY  OF  li'EW.YOUK. 


213 


he  gave  a  hint  to  his  trusty  followers,  who  tipped  each  other 
the  wink,  and  laughed  most  obstreperously— in  their  sleeves. 

The  inspection,  review,  and  flogging  being  concluded,  the 
party  adjourned  to  the  table;  for  among  his  other  great  quali- 
ties, the  general  was  remarkably  addicted  to  huge  entei  tain- 
ments,  or  rather  carousals,  and  in  one  afternoon's  campaign 
would  leave  more  dead  men  on  the  field  than  he  ever  did  in 
the  whole  course  of  his  military  career,  llany  bulletins  of 
these  bloodless  victories  do  still  remain  on  record;  and  the 
whole  province  was  once  thrown  in  a  maze  by  the  return  of 
one  of  his  campaigns ;  wherein  it  was  stated  that  though,  like 
Captain  Bobadil,  he  had  only  twenty  men  to  back  him,  yet  in 
the  short  space  of  six  months  he  had  conquered  and  utterly 
annihilated  sixty  oxen,  ninety  hogs,  one  hundred  sheep,  ten 
thousand  cabbages,  one  thousand  bushels  of  potatoes,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  kilderkins  of  small-beer,  two  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  thirty-five  pipes,  seventy-eight  pounds  of 
sugar-plums,  and  forty  bars  of  iron,  besides  sundry  small 
meats,  game,  poultry,  and  garden  stuff : — An  achievement  un- 
paralleled since  the  days  of  Pantagruel  and  his  all-devouring 
army,  and  which  showed  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  let 
belhpotent  Van  Poffenburgh  and  his  garrison  loose  in  an 
enemy's  country,  and  in  a  little  while  they  would  breed  a 
famine  and  starve  all  the  inhabitants. 

No  sooner,  therefore,  had  the  general  received  the  first  in- 
timation of  the  visit  of  Governor  Eisingh,  than  he  ordered  a 
great  dinner  to  be  prepared ;  and  privately  sent  out  a  detach- 
ment of  his  most  experienced  veterans  to  rob  all  the  hen- 
roosts in  the  neighbourhood  and  lay  the  pig-sties  under  con- 
tribution ;  a  service  to  which  they  had  been  long  inured,  and 
which  they  discharged  Avith  such  incredible  zeal  and  prompti- 
tude that  the  garrison  table  groaned  under  the  weight  of  their 
spoils. 

I  T\ish,  with  all  my  heart,  my  readers  could  see  the  valiant 
Van  Poffenburgh,  as  he  presided  at  the  head  of  the  banquet ; 
it  was  a  sight  worth  beholding : — there  he  sat,  in  his  greatest 
glory,  surrounded  by  his  soldiers,  like  that  famous  wine-bib- 
ber, Alexander,  whose  thirsty  virtues  he  did  most  ably  imitate 
— teUing  astounding  stories  of  his  hair-breadth  adventures  and 
heroic  exploits,  at  which,  though  all  his  auditors  knew  them 
to  be  most  incontinent  and  outrageous  gasconadoes,  yet  did 
they  cast  up  their  eyes  in  admiration  and  utter  many  inter- 
jections of  astonishment.    Nor  could  the  jrcneral  pronoimce 


214 


A  IIISTOUY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


any  thing  that  bore  the  remotest  semblance  to  a  joke,  but  the 
stout  Risingh  would  strike  his  brawny  fist  upon  the  table  till 
every  glass  rattled  again,  throwing  himself  back  in  the  chair 
and  uttering  gigantic  peals  of  laughter,  swearing  most  horribly 
it  was  the  best  joke  he  ever  heard  in  his  life. — Thus  all  was  rout 
and  revelry  and  hideous  carousal  within  Fort  Casimir,  and 
so  lustily  did  Van  Poffenburgh  ply  the  bottle,  that  in  less  than 
four  short  hours  he  made  himself  and  his  whole  garrison,  who 
all  sedulously  emulated  the  deeds  of  theu-  cliieftain,  dead 
drunk,  and  singing  songs,  quaffing  bumpers,  and  drinking 
patriotic  toasts,  none  of  which  but  was  as  long  as  a  Welsh 
pedigree  or  a  plea  in  chancery. 

No  sooner  did  things  come  to  this  pass,  than  the  crafty 
Risingli  and  his  Swedes,  who  had  cunningly  kept  themselves 
sober,  rose  on  their  entertamers,  tied  them  neck  and  heels,  and 
took  formal  possession  of  the  fort,  and  all  its  dependencies,  in 
the  name  of  Queen  Christina  of  Sweden :  administering  at  the 
same  time  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  all  the  Dutch  soldiers  who 
could  be  made  sober  enough  to  swallow  it.  Risingh  then  put 
the  fortification  in  order,  appointed  his  discreet  and  vigilant 
friend,  Suen  Scutz,  a  tall,  wind-dried,  water-drinking  Swede, 
to  the  command,  and  departed,  bearing  with  him  this  truly 
amiable  garrison,  and  their  puissant  commander ;  who,  when 
brought  to  himself  by  a  soimd  drubbing,  bore  no  Httle  resem- 
blance to  a  "deboshed  fish,"  or  bloated  sea-monster,  caught 
upon  dry  land. 

The  transportation  of  the  garrison  was  done  to  prevent  the 
transmission  of  intelhgence  to  New-Amsterdam ;  for,  much  as 
the  cunnmg  Risingh  exulted  in  his  stratagem,  he  dreaded  the 
vengeance  of  the  sturdy  Peter  Stuyvesant;  whose  name 
spread  as  much  terror  in  the  neighbom^hood  as  did  whilom 
that  of  the  unconquerable  Scanderbeg  among  his  scurvy  eno 
mies,  the  Turks. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHOWING  HOW  PROFOUND  SECRETS  ARE  OFTEN  BROUGHT  TO 
LIGHT;  WITH  THE  PROCEEDINGS  OF  PETER  THE  HEADSTRONG, 
WHEN  HE  HEARD  OF  THE  MISFORTUNES  OF  GENERAL  VAN  POF- 
FENBURGH. 

Whoever  first  described  common  fame,  or  rumour,  as  be- 
longing to  the  sager  sex,  was  a  very  owl  for  shrewdness.  She 


A  IJISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


215 


has,  in  tiiith,  cortain  feminine  qualities  to  an  astonishing  de- 
gi'ee ;  particularly  that  benevolent  anxiety  to  take  care  of  the 
affairs  of  others,  which  lo^eps  her  continually  hunting  after 
secrets,  and  gadding  about  proclaiming  them.  Whatever  is 
done  openly  and  in  the  face  of  the  world,  she  takes  but  tran- 
sient notice  of ;  but  whenever  a  transaction  is  done  in  a  comer, 
and  attempted  to  be  shrouded  in  mystery,  then  her  goddess- 
ship  is  at  her  wit's  end  to  find  it  out,  and  takes  a  most  mis- 
chievous and  lady-like  pleasure  in  publishing  it  to  the  world. 

It  is  this  tmly  feminine  propensity  that  induces  her  con- 
tinually to  be  prying  into  cabinets  of  princes,  listening  at  the 
key-holes  of  senate  chambers,  and  peering  through  chinks  and 
crannies,  when  our  worthy  Congress  are  sitting  with  closed 
doors,  deliberating  between  a  dozen  excellent  modes  of  ruining 
the  nation.  It  is  this  which  makes  her  so  obnoxious  to  all 
wary  statesmen  and  intriguing  commanders— such  a  stum- 
bhng-block  to  private  negotiations  and  secret  expeditions; 
which  she  often  betrays,  by  means  and  instruments  which 
never  would  have  been  thought  of  by  any  but  a  female  head. 

Thus  it  was  in  the  case  of  the  affair  of  Fort  Casimir.  No 
doubt  the  cunning  Risingh  imagined,  that  by  securing  the 
garrison  he  should  for  a  long  time  prevent  the  history  of  its 
fate  from  reaching  the  ears  of  the  gallant  Stuy vesant ;  but  his 
exploit  was  blown  to  the  world  when  he  least  expected  it,  and 
by  one  of  the  last  beings  he  would  ever  have  suspected  of  en- 
listing as  trumpeter  to  the  wide-mouthed  deity. 

This  was  one  Dirk  Schuiler,  (or  Skulker,)  a  kind  of  hanger- 
on  to  the  garrison ;  Avho  seemed  to  belong  to  nobody,  and  in  a 
manner  to  be  self-outlawed.  He  was  one  of  those  vagabond 
cosmopolites,  who  shark  about  the  world  as  if  they  had  no 
right  or  business  in  it,  and  who  infest  the  skirts  of  society  like 
poachers  and  interlopers.  Every  garrison  and  country  village 
has  one  or  more  scape-goats  of  this  kind,  whose  hfe  is  a  kind 
of  enigma,  whose  existence  is  without  motive,  who  comes  from 
the  Lord  knows -where,  who  lives  the  Lord  knows  how,  and 
seems  to  be  made  for  no  otlier  earthly  purpose  but  to  keep  up 
the  ancient  and  honourable  order  of  idleness.  This  vagrant 
philosopher  was  supposed  to  have  some  Indian  blood  in  his 
veins,  which  was  manifested  by  a  certain  Indian  complexion 
and  cast  of  countenance ;  but  more  especially  by  his  propensi- 
ties and  habits.  He  was  a  tall,  lank  fellow,  swift  of  foot  and 
long-winded.  He  was  generally  equipped  in  a  half  Indian 
dress,  with  belt,  leggings,  and  moccasons.    His  hair  hung  in 


216 


A  HISTORY  OF  JS'lCW-YOIlK. 


straight  gallows  locks  about  his  ears,  and  added  not  a  little  to 
his  sharking  demeanour.  It  is  an  old  remark,  that  persons  of 
Indian  mixture  are  half  civihzed,  half  savage,  and  half  devil, 
a  third  half  bemg  expressly  provided  for  their  particular  con- 
venience. It  is  for  sunilar  reasons,  and  probably  with  equal 
truth,  that  the  back-wood-men  of  Kentucky  are  styled  hah 
man,  half  horse,  and  half  alligator,  by  the  settlers  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  held  accordingly  in  gi'eat  respect  and  abhorrence. 

The  above  character  may  have  presented  itself  to  the  garri- 
son as  applicable  to  Dirk  Schuiler,  whom  they  familiarly 
dubbed  Gallows  Dirk.  Certain  it  is,  he  acknowledged  allegi- 
ance to  no  one — was  an  utter  enemy  to  work,  holding  it  in  no 
manner  of  estimation — but  lounged  about  the  fort,  depending 
upon  chance  for  a  subsistence,  getting  drunk  whenever  he 
could  get  liquor,  and  steahng  whatever  he  could  lay  his  hands 
on.  Every  day  or  two  he  was  sure  to  get  a  sound  rib-roasting 
for  some  of  his  misdemeanours,  which,  however,  as  it  broke 
no  bones,  he  made  very  light  of,  and  scrupled  not  to  repeat  the 
offence,  whenever  another  opportunity  presented.  Sometimes, 
m  consequence  of  some  flagrant  villainy,  he  would  abscond 
from  the  garrison,  and  be  absent  for  a  month  at  a  time ;  skulk- 
ing about  the  woods  and  swamps,  -with  a  long  fowling-piece  on 
his  shoulder,  laying  in  ambush  for  game — or  squatting  himself 
down  on  the  edge  of  a  pond  catching  fish  for  hours  together, 
and  bearing  no  little  resemblance  to  that  notable  bird  ycleped 
the  mudpolie.  "When  he  thought  liis  crunes  had  been  forgot- 
ten or  forgiven,  he  would  sneak  back  to  the  fort  with  a  bundle 
of  skins,  or  a  bunch  of  poultry,  which  perchance  he  had  stolen, 
and  would  exchange  them  for  hquor,  with  which,  having  well 
soaked  his  carcass,  he  would  lay  in  the  sun  and  enjoy  all  the 
luxurious  mdolence  of  that  swmish  philosopher,  Diogenes.  He 
was  the  terror  of  all  the  farm-yards  in  the  country,  into  wliich 
he  made  fearful  inroads;  and  sometimes  he  would  make  his 
sudden  appearance  at  the  garrison  at  day-break,  with  the 
whole  neighbourhood  at  his  heels,  like  a  scoundrel  thief  of  a 
fox,  detected  in  his  maraudings  and  hunted  to  his  hole.  Such 
was  this  Dirk  Schuiler;  and  from  the  total  indifference  he 
showed  to  the  world  or  its  concerns,  and  from  his  truly  Indian 
stoicism  and  taciturnity,  no  one  would  ever  have  dreamt  that 
he  would  have  been  the  publisher  of  the  treachery  of  Risingh. 

When  the  carousal  was  going  on,  which  proved  so  fatal  to  the 
brave  Van  Poffenburgh  and  his  watchful  garrison,  Dirk  skulked 
about  from  room  to  room,  bemg  a  kind  of  privileged  vagrant, 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


211 


or  useless  hound,  whom  nobody  noticed.  But  though  a  fellow 
of  few  words,  yet,  like  your  taciturn  people,  his  eyes  and  ears 
were  always  open,  and  in  the  course  of  his  prowUngs  he  over- 
heard the  whole  plot  of  the  Swedes.  Dirk  immediately  settled 
in  his  own  mind  how  he  should  turn  the  matter  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage.  He  played  the  perfect  jack-of-both-sides — that  is  to 
say,  he  made  a  prize  of  everything  that  came  in  his  reach, 
robbed  both  parties,  stuck  the  copper-bound  cocked-hat  of  the 
puissant  Van  Poffenburgh  on  his  head,  whipped  a  huge  pair  of 
Eisingh's  jack-boots  under  his  arms,  and  took  to  his  heels,  just 
before  the  catastrophe  and  confusion  at  the  garrison. 

Finding  himself  completely  dislodged  from  his  haimt  in  this 
quarter,  he  directed  his  flight  to^vards  his  native  place.  New 
Amsterdam,  from  whence  he  had  formerly  been  obliged  to  ab- 
scond precipitately,  in  consequence  of  misfortune  in  business — 
that  is  to  say,  having  been  detected  in  the  act  of  sheep-stealing. 
After  wandering  many  days  in  the  woods,  toihng  through 
swamps,  fording  brooks,  swimming  various  rivers,  and  en- 
countering a  world  of  hardships,  that  would  have  lolled  any 
other  being  but  an  Indian,  a  back-wood-man,  or  the  devil,  he 
at  length  arrived,  half  famished,  and  lank  as  a  starved  weasel, 
at  Communipaw,  where  he  stole  a  canoe,  and  paddled  over  to 
New-Amsterdam.  Immediately  on  landing,  he  repaired  to 
Governor  Stuyvesant,  and  in  more  words  than  he  had  ever 
spoken  before  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  gave  an  account 
of  the  disastrous  aifair. 

On  receiving  these  direful  tidings,  the  valiant  Peter  started 
from  his  seat  -  dashed  the  pipe  he  was  smoking  against  the 
back  of  the  chimney — thrust  a  prodigious  quid  of  tobacco  into 
his  left  cheek — pulled  up  his  galligaskins,  and  strode  up  and 
down  the  room,  humming,  as  was  customary  with  him  when 
in  a  passion,  a  hideous  north-west  ditty.  But  as  I  have  before 
shown,  he  was  not  a  man  to  vent  his  spleen  in  idle  vapouring. 
iHis  first  measure  after  the  paroxysm  of  wrath  had  subsided, 
{was  to  stump  up-stairs  to  a  huge  wooden  chest,  which  sei^^ed 
as  his  armory,  from  whence  he  drew  forth  that  identical  suit 
of  regimentals  described  in  the  preceding  chapter.  In  these 
portentous  habihinents  he  arrayed  himself,  like  Achilles  in 
the  armour  of  Vulcan,  maintaining  all  the  while  a  most  ap- 
palling silence,  knitting  his  brows,  and  drawing  his  breath 
through  his  clenched  teeth.  Being  hastily  equipped,  he  strode 
down  into  the  parlour,  jerked  down  his  trusty  sword  from 
over  the  fire-place,  where  it  waa  usually  suspended ;  but  before- 


218 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEWTORK. 


he  gii'ded  it  on  his  thigh,  he  drew  it  from  its  scahbard,  and  as 
his  eye  coursed  along  the  rusty  blade,  a  grim  smile  stole  over 
his  iron  visage — it  was  the  first  smile  that  had  visited  his  coun- 
tenance for  five  long  weeks;  but  every  one  who  beheld  it, 
prophesied  that  there  would  soon  be  warm  work  in  the  pra 
vince! 

Thus  armed  at  all  points,  with  grizzly  war  depictured  in  each 
feature,  his  very  cocked- hat  assuming  an  air  of  uncommon  de- 
fiance, he  instantly  put  himself  upon  the  alert,  and  despatched 
Antony  Van  Corlear  hither  and  thither,  this  way  and  that 
way,  through  all  the  muddy  streets  and  crooked  lanes  of  the 
city,  sunnnoning  by  sound  of  trumpet  his  trusty  peers  to  as- 
semble in  instant  council.  This  done,  by  way  of  expediting 
matters,  according  to  the  custom  of  people  in  a  hurry,  he  kept 
in  continual  bustle,  shifting  from  chair  to  chair,  popping  his 
head  out  of  every  window,  and  stumping  up  and  down  stairs 
with  his  wooden  leg  in  such  brisk  and  incessant  motion,  that, 
as  we  are  informed  by  an  authentic  historian  of  the  times,  the 
continual  clatter  bore  no  small  resemblance  to  the  music  of  a 
cooper  hooping  a  flour-barrel. 

A  summons  so  peremptory,  and  from  a  man  of  the  gover- 
nor's mettle,  was  not  to  be  trifled  with;  the  sages  forthwith 
repaired  to  the  council  chamber,  seated  themselves  with  the 
utmost  tranquillity,  and  Hghting  their  long  pipes,  gazed  with 
unruffled  composure  on  his  excellency  and  his  regimentals; 
being,  as  all  counsellors  should  be,  not  easily  flustered,  or 
taken  by  surprise.  The  governor,  looking  around  for  a  mo- 
ment with  a  lofty  and  soldier-like  air,  and  resting  one  hand  on 
the  pummel  of  liis  sword,  and  flinging  the  other  forth  in  a  free 
and  spirited  manner,  addressed  them  in  a  short,  but  soul- 
stii'ring  harangue. 

I  am  extremely  sorry  that  I  have  not  the  advantages  of  Li^^% 
Thucydides,  Plutarch,  and  others  of  my  predecessors,  who  are 
furnished,  as  I  am  told,  with  the  speeches  of  all  their  great 
emperors,  generals,  and  orators,  taken  down  in  short-hand,  by 
the  most  accurate  stenographers  of  the  time ;  whereby  they  \ 
were  enabled  wonderfully  to  enrich  their  histories,  and  deh.i;ht 
their  readers  with  sublime  strains  of  eloquence.  Not  having 
such  important  auxiliaries,  I  cannot  possibly  pronounce  what 
w^as  the  tenor  of  Governor  Stuyvesant's  speech.  I  am  bold,  i 
however,  to  say,  from  the  tenor  of  his  character,  that  he  did 
not  wrap  his  rugged  subject  in  silks  and  ermines,  and  other 
sickly  trickeries  of  phrase ;  but  spoke  forth,  like  a  man  of  nerve  i 


A  jnsTortr  or-  new-Tork. 


210 


and  vigour,  who  scorned  to  shrink,  in  words,  from  those  dan- 
gers which  he  stood  ready  to  encounter  in  very  deed.  This 
much  is  certain,  that  he  concluded  by  announcing  his  deter- 
mination of  leading  on  his  troops  in  person,  and  routing  these 
costardmonger  Swedes  from  their  usurped  quarters  at  Fort 
Casimir.  To  this  hardy  resoUition  such  of  his  council  as  were 
awake  gave  their  usual  signal  of  concurrence,  and  as  to  the 
i  rest  who  had  fallen  asleep  about  the  middle  of  the  harangue 
(their  "usual  custom  in  the  afternoon") — they  made  not  the 
least  objection. 

And  now  was  seen  in  the  fair  city  of  New- Amsterdam  a 
i   prodigious  bustle  and  preparation  for  iron  war.  Eecruiting 
i   parties  marched  hither  and  thither,  calling  lustily  upon  all  the 
'   scrubs,  the  runagates,  and  tatterdemalions  of  the  Manhattoes 
and  its  vicinity,  who  had  any  ambition  of  sixpence  a  day,  and 
immortal  fame  into  the  bargain,  to  enlist  in  the  cause  of  glory. 
For  I  would  have  you  note  that  your  warlike  heroes  who 
tmdge  in  the  rear  of  conquerors,  are  generally  of  that  illus- 
trious class  of  gentlemen,  who  are  equal  candidates  for  the 
army  or  the  Bridewell — the  halberts  or  the  whipping-post — for 
whom  dame  Fortune  has  cast  an  even  die,  whether  they  shall 
make  their  exit  by  the  sword  or  the  halter— and  whose  deaths 
shall,  at  all  events,  be  a  lofty  example  to  their  countrymen. 

But  notwithstanding  all  this  martial  rout  and  invitation,  the 
ranks  of  honour  were  but  scantily  supplied ;  so  averse  were 
the  peaceful  burghers  of  New-Amsterdam  from  enlisting  in 
foreign  broils,  or  stirring  beyond  that  home  which  rounded  aD 
their  earthly  ideas.  Upon  beholding  this,  the  gi-eat  Peter, 
whose  noble  heart  was  aU  on  fire  with  war  and  sweet  re- 
venge, determined  to  wait  no  longer  for  the  tardy  assistance 
of  these  oily  citizens,  but  to  muster  up  Ms  merry  men  of  the 
Hudson ;  who,  brought  up  among  woods  and  wilds  and  savage 
beasts,  like  our  yeomen  of  Kentucky,  dehghted  in  nothing 
so  much  as  desperate  adventures  and  perilous  expeditions 
through  the  wilderness.  Thus  resolving,  he  ordered  his  trusty 
I  squire,  Antony  Van  Corlear,  to  have  his  state  galley  prepared 
and  duly  victualled ;  which  being  performed,  he  attended  pub- 
t  lie  service  at  the  great  church  of  St.  Nicholas,  like  a  tme  and 
pious  governor,  and  then  leaving  peremptory  orders  with  his 
council  to  have  the  chivalry  of  the  Manhattoes  marshalled  out 
and  appointed  against  his  return,  departed  upon  his  recruiting 
voyage,  up  the  waters  of  the  Hudson. 


220 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONTAINING  PETER  STTTYVESANT'S  VOYAGE  UP  THE  HUDSON,  AND 
THE  WONDERS  AND  DELIGHTS  OF  THAT  RENOWNED  RIVER. 

Now  did  the  soft  breezes  of  the  south  steal  sweetly  over  the 
beauteous  face  of  nature,  tempermg  the  panting  heats  of  sum- 
mer into  genial  and  prolific  warmth — when  that  miracle  of 
hardihood  and  cliivaMc  virtue,  the  dauntless  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant,  spread  his  canvas  to  the  wind,  and  departed  from  the  fair 
island  of  Manna-hata.  The  galley  in  which  he  embarked  was 
smnptuously  adorned  with  pendants  and  streamers  of  gorge- 
ous dyes,  which  fluttered  gayly  in  the  wind,  or  drooped  their 
ends  in  the  bosom  of  the  stream.  The  bow  and  poop  of  this 
majestic  vessel  were  gallantly  bedight,  after  the  rarest  Dutch 
fashion,  with  figures  of  little  pursy  Cupids  with  periwigs  on 
their  heads,  and  bearing  in  their  hands  garlands  of  flowers,  the 
like  of  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  any  book  of  botany ;  being 
the  matchless  flowers  which  flourished  in  the  golden  age,  and 
exist  no  longer,  unless  it  be  in  the  imaginations  of  ingenious 
carvers  of  wood  and  discolourers  of  canvas. 

Thus  rarely  decorated,  in  style  befitting  the  state  of  the 
puissant  potentate  of  the  Manhattoes,  did  the  galley  of  Peter 
Stuyvesant  launch  forth  upon  the  bosom  of  the  lordly  Hudson; 
which,  as  it  rolled  its  broad  waves  to  the  ocean,  seemed  to 
pause  for  a  while,  and  swell  with  pride,  as  if  conscious  of  the 
illustrious  burthen  it  sustained. 

But  trust  me,  gentlefolk,  far  other  was  the  scene  presented 
to  the  contemplation  of  the  crew,  from  that  which  may  be  wit- 
nessed at  this  degenerate  day.  Wildness  and  savage  majesty 
reigned  on  the  borders  of  this  mighty  river — the  hand  of  culti- 
vation had  not  as  yet  laid  down  the  dark  forests,  and  tamed 
the  features  of  the  landscape— nor  had  the  frequent  sail  of 
commerce  yet  broken  in  upon  the  profound  and  awful  soli- 
tude of  ages.  Here  and  there  might  be  seen  a  rude  wig-wam 
perched  among  the  chffs  of  the  mountains,  with  its  curling 
column  of  smoke  mounting  in  the  transparent  atmosphere — 
but  so  loftily  situated,  that  the  whooping  of  the  savage  children, 
gambolling  on  the  margin  of  the  dizzy  heights,  fell  almost  as 
faintly  on  the  ear  as  do  the  notes  of  the  lark  when  lost  in  the 
azure  vault  of  heaven.    Now  and  then,  from  the  beethng  brow 


A  lIISTOItT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


221 


of  some  rocky  precipice,  the  wild  deer  would  look  timidly 
down  upon  the  splendid  pageant  as  it  passed  below ;  and  then, 
tossing  his  branching  antlers  in  the  air,  would  bound  away  into 
the  thickets  of  the  forest. 

Through  such  scenes  did  the  stately  vessel  of  Peter  Stuyve- 
Bant  pass.  Now  did  they  skirt  the  bases  of  the  rocky  heights  of 
Jersey,  which  spring  up  like  everlasting  walls,  reaching  from 
the  waves  unto  the  heavens ;  and  were  fashioned,  if  traditions 
may  be  believed,  in  times  long  past,  by  the  mighty  spirit 
Manetho,  to  protect  his  favourite  abodes  from  the  unhallowed 
eyes  of  mortals.  Now  did  they  career  it  gayly  across  the  vast 
expanse  of  Tappan  Bay,  whose  wide  extended  shores  present  a 
vast  variety  of  delectable  scenery — here  the  bold  promontory, 
crowned  with  embowering  trees,  advancing  into  the  bay — 
there  the  long  woodland  slope,  sweeping  up  from  the  shore  in 
rich  luxuriance,  and  terminating  in  the  upland  precipice— 
while  at  a  distance  a  long  waving  hne  of  rocky  heights  threw 
their  gigantic  shades  across  the  water.  Now  would  they  pass 
where  some  modest  little  interval,  opening  among  these  stupen- 
dous scenes,  yet  retreating  as  it  were  for  protection  into  the 
embraces  of  the  neighbouring  mountains,  displayed  a  rural 
paradise,  fraught  with  sweet  and  pastoral  beauties ;  the  velvet- 
tufted  lawn — the  bushy  copse — the  tinkling  rivulet,  stealing 
through  the  fresh  and  vivid  verdure — on  whose  banks  was 
situated  some  little  Indian  village,  or,  perad venture,  the  rude 
cabin  of  some  sohtary  hunter. 

The  different  periods  of  the  revolving  day  seemed  each,  with 
cunning  magic,  to  diffuse  a  different  charm  over  the  scene. 
Now  would  the  jovial  sun  break  gloriously  from  the  east,  blaz- 
ing from  the  summits  of  the  hills,  and  sparkling  the  landscape 
with  a  thousand  dewy  gems ;  while  along  the  borders  of  the 
river  were  seen  heavy  masses  of  mist,  which,  like  midnight 
caitiffs,  disturbed  at  his  approach,  made  a  sluggish  retreat, 
rolling  in  sullen  reluctance  up  the  mountains.  At  such  times, 
all  was  brightness  and  Hf  e  and  gayety — the  atmosphere  seemed 
of  an  indescribable  pureness  and  transparency  —  the  birds 
broke  forth  in  wanton  madrigals,  and  the  freshening  breezes 
wafted  the  vessel  merrily  on  her  course.  But  when  the  sun 
sunk  amid  a  flood  of  glory  in  the  west,  mantling  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  wdth  a  thousand  gorgeous  dyes— then  all  was 
cahn,  and  silent,  and  magnificent.  The  late  swelhng  sail  hung 
hfelessly  against  the  mast— the  seamen  with  folded  arms  leaned 
agauist  the  shrouds,  lost  in  that  involuntary  musing  which  the 


222 


A  IIISTOIIY  OF  M'JW-l'OJlK. 


sober  grandeur  of  nature  commands  in  the  rudest  of  her  chil- 
dren.  The  vast  bosom  of  the  Hudson  Avas  Hke  an  unruffled 
mirror,  reflecting  the  golden  Sfjlendour  of  the  heavens,  except- 
ing that  now  and  then  a  bark  canoe  would  steal  across  its  sur- 
face, filled  with  painted  savages,  whose  gay  feathers  glared 
brightly,  as  perchance  a  lingering  ray  of  the  setting  sun 
gleamed  upon  them  from  the  western  mountains. 

But  when  the  hour  of  twilight  spread  its  m?^gic  mists  around, 
then  did  the  face  of  nature  assume  a  thousand  fugitive  charms, 
which,  to  the  worthy  heart  that  seeks  enjoyment  in  the  glori- 
ous works  of  its  Maker,  are  inexpressibly  captivating.  Tho 
mellow  dubious  light  that  prevailed,  just  served  to  tinge  vn^h 
illusive  colours  the  softened  features  of  the  scenery.  The  de- 
ceived but  delighted  eye  sought  vainly  to  discern,  m  the  broad 
masses  of  shade,  the  separating  line  between  the  land  and 
water ;  or  to  distinguish  the  fading  objects  that  seemed  sink- 
ing into  chaos.  Now  did  the  busy  fancy  supply  the  feebleness 
of  \4sion,  producing  with  industrious  craft  a  fairy  creation  of 
her  own.  Under  her  plastic  wand  the  ban-en  rocks  frowned 
upon  the  watery  waste,  in  the  semblance  of  lofty  towers  and 
high  embattled  castles — trees  assumed  the  direful  terms  of 
mighty  giants,  and  the  inaccessible  summits  of  the  mountains 
seemed  peopled  with  a  thousand  shadowy  beings. 

Now  broke  forth  from  the  shores  the  note?  of  an  inmunera- 
ble  variety  of  insects,  which  filled  the  air  with  a  strange  but 
not  inharmonious  concert — while  ever  and  anon  was  heard  the 
melancholy  plaint  of  the  whip-poor-will,  who,  perched  on  some 
lone  tree,  wearied  the  ear  of  night  with  his  incessant  mean- 
ings. The  mind,  soothed  into  a  hallowed  melancholy,  listened 
with  pensive  stillness  to  catch  and  distinguish  each  sound  that 
vaguely  echoed  from  the  shore — now  and  then  startled  per- 
chance by  the  whoop  of  some  straggling  savage,  or  the  dreary 
howl  of  a  wolf,  stealing  forth  upon  his  nightly  prowhngs. 

Thus  happily  did  they  pursue  their  course,  until  they  entered 
upon  those  awful  defiles  denominated  The  Highlands,  where 
it  would  seem  that  the  gigantic  Titans  had  erst  waged  their 
impious  war  with  heaven,  piling  up  cliffs  on  chffs,  and  hurling 
vast  masses  of  rock  in  wild  confusion.  But  in  sooth,  very 
different  is  the  history  of  these  cloud-capped  mountains. — These 
in  ancient  days,  before  the  Hudson  poured  his  waters  from  the 
lakes,  formed  one  vast  prison,  within  whose  rocky  bosom  the 
omnipotent  Manetho  confined  the  rebellious  spirits  who  repined 
at  Ins  control.    Here,  bound  m  adamantine  chains,  or  jammed 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


223 


in  rifted  pines,  or  crushed  by  ponderous  rocks,  they  groaned 
for  many  an  age.  At  length  the  conquering  Hudson,  in  his 
iiTesistible  career  towards  tlie  ocean,  burst  open  their  prison- 
house,  rolling  his  tide  triumphantly  through  its  stupendous 
ruins. 

Still,  however,  do  many  of  them  lurk  about  their  old  abodes; 
and  these  it  is,  according  to  venerable  legends,  that  cause  the 
echoes  which  resound  throughout  these  awful  solitudes ;  which 
are  nothing  but  their  angry  clamours,  when  any  noise  disturbs 
the  profoundness  of  their  repose.  For  when  the  elements  are 
agitated  by  tempest,  when  the  winds  are  up  and  the  thunder 
roUs,  then  horrible  is  the  yelling  and  howling  of  these  troubled 
spirits,  making  the  mountains  to  rebellow  with  their  hideous 
uproar;  for  at  such  times,  it  is  said,  they  think  the  great 
Manetho  is  returning  once  more  to  plunge  them  in  gloomy 
caverns,  and  renew  their  intolerable  captivity. 

But  all  these  fair  and  glorious  scenes  were  lost  upon  the  gal- 
lant Stuyvesant;  nought  occupied  his  mind  but  thoughts  of 
iron  war,  and  proud  anticipations  of  hardy  deeds  of  arms. 
Neither  did  his  honest  crew  trouble  their  vacant  heads  with 
any  romantic  speculations  of  the  kind.  The  pilot  at  the  helm 
quietly  smoked  his  pipe,  thinking  of  nothing  either  past,  pres- 
ent, or  to  come — those  of  his  comrades  who  were  not  industri- 
ously snoring  under  the  hatches  were  listening  with  open 
mouths  to  Antony  Van  Corlear ;  who,  seated  on  the  windlass, 
was  relating  to  them  the  marvellous  history  of  those  myriads 
of  fire-flies  that  sparkled  like  gems  and  spangles  upon  the 
dusky  robe  of  night.  These,  according  to  tradition,  were 
originally  a  race  of  pestilent  sempiternous  beldames,  who  peo- 
pled these  parts  long  before  the  memory  of  man ;  being  of  that 
abominated  race  emphatically  called  brimstones;  and  who,  for 
their  innumerable  sins  against  the  children  of  men,  and  to 
furnish  an  awful  warning  to  the  beauteous  sex,  were  doomed 
to  infest  the  earth  in  the  shape  of  these  threatening  and  terri= 
ble  httle  bugs;  enduring  the  internal  torments  of  that  fire, 
which  they  formerly  carried  in  their  hearts,  and  breathed  forth 
in  their  words ;  but  now  are  sentenced  to  bear  about  for  ever — 
in  their  tails. 

And  now  am  I  going  to  tell  a  fact,  which  I  doubt  much  my 
readers  will  hesitate  to  believe ;  but  if  they  do,  they  are  v/el- 
come  not  to  believe  a  word  in  this  whole  history,  for  nothing 
which  it  contains  is  more  true.  It  must  be  known  then  that 
the  nose  of  Antony  the  trumpeter  was  of  a  very  lusty  size, 


224 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOItK. 


strutting  boldly  from  his  countenance  like  a  mountain  of  Gol- 
conda;  being  sumptuously  bedecked  with  rubies  and  otlier 
precious  stones — the  true  regalia  of  a  king  of  good  fellows, 
which  jolly  Bacchus  grants  to  all  who  bouse  it  heartily  at  the 
flagon.  Now  thus  it  hapi^ened,  that  bright  and  early  in  the 
morning,  the  good  Antony  having  washed  his  burly  visage, 
^was  leaning  over  the  quarter-raihng  of  the  galley  contemplat- 
ing it  in  the  glassy  wave  below — just  at  this  moment,  the 
illustrious  sun,  breaking  in  all  his  splendour  from  behind  one 
of  the  high  bluffs  of  the  Highlands,  did  dart  one  of  his  most 
potent  beams  full  upon  the  refulgent  nose  of  the  sounder  of 
brass — the  reflection  of  which  shot  straightway  down,  hissing 
hot,  into  the  water,  and  killed  a  mighty  sturgeon  that  was 
sporting  beside  the  vessel!  This  huge  monster  being  with  in 
finite  labour  hoisted  on  board,  furnished  a  luxurious  repast  to 
all  the  crew,  being  accounted  of  excellent  fllavour,  excepting 
about  the  wound,  where  it  smacked  a  httle  of  brimstone — and 
this,  on  my  veracity,  was  the  first  time  that  ever  sturgeon  was 
eaten  in  these  parts  by  Christian  people.* 

When  this  astonishing  miracle  came  to  be  made  known  to 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  and  that  he  tasted  of  the  unknown  fish,  he, 
as  may  Avell  be  supposed,  marvelled  exceedingly;  and  as  a 
monument  thereof,  he  gave  the  name  of  Antonyms  Nose  to  a 
stout  promontory  in  the  neighbourhood— and  it  has  continued 
to  be  called  Antony's  Nose  ever  since  that  time. 

But  hold— Whither  am  I  wandering?— By  the  mass,  if  I  at- 
tempt to  accompany  the  good  Peter  Stuyvesant  on  this  voyage, 
I  shall  never  make  an  end,  for  never  was  there  a  voyage  so 
fraught  with  marvellous  incidents,  nor  a  river  so  abounding 
with  transcendent  beauties,  worthy  of  being  severally  recorded. 
Even  now  I  have  it  on  the  point  of  my  pen  to  relate,  how  his 
crew  were  most  horribly  frightened,  on  going  on  shore  above 
the  Highlands,  by  a  gang  of  merry,  roistering  de\als,  frisking 
and  curveting  on  a  huge  flat  rock,  which  projected  into  the 
river— and  w4iich  is  called  the  DuyveVs  Dans-Kamer  to  this 
very  day. — But  no!  Diedrich  Knickerbocker— it  becomes  thee 
not  to  idle  thus  in  thy  historic  wayfaring. 

Eecollect  that  while  dwelling  with  the  fond  garrulity  of  age 
over  these  fairy  scenes,  endeared  to  thee  by  the  recollections  of 


*  The  learned  Hans  Megapolensis,  treating  of  the  country  about  Alban}',  in  a 
letter  which  was  written  some  time  after  the  settlement  thereof,  says:  "There  is 
in  the  river  great  plenty  of  Sturgeon,  which  we  Christians  do  not  make  use  of;  but 
the  Indians  eat  them  greedilie." 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


225 


thy  youth,  and  the  charms  of  a  thousand  legendary  talcs 
wliich  beguiled  the  simple  ear  of  thy  childhood;  recollect  that 
fcliou  art  trifling  with  those  fleeting  moments  which  should  be 
devoted  to  loftier  themes. — Is  not  Time — relentless  Time! — 
shaking,  with  palsied  hand,  his  almost  exhausted  hour-glass 
before  thee? — hasten  then  to  pursue  thy  weary  task,  lest  the 
last  sands  be  run,  ere  thou  hast  finished  thy  history  of  the 
]\Ianhattoes. 

Let  us  then  commit  the  dauntless  Peter,  his  brave  galley  , 
and  his  loyal  crew,  to  the  protection  of  the  blessed  St.  Nicholas; 
who,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  prosper  him  in  his  voyage,  while 
we  await  his  return  at  the  great  city  of  New-Amsterdam. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DESCRIBING  THE  POWERFUL  ARMY  THAT  ASSEMBLED  AT  THE 
CITY  OF  NEW-AMSTERDAM — TOGETHER  WITH  THE  INTERVIEW 
BETWEEN  PETER  THE  HEADSTRONG  AND  GENERAL  VAN  POF- 
FENBURGH,  AND  PETER'S  SENTIMENTS  TOUCHING  UNFORTUNATE 
GREAT  MEN. 

While-  thus  the  enterprising  Peter  was  coasting,  with  flow- 
ing sail,  up  the  shores  of  the  lordly  Hudson,  and  arousing  all 
the  phlegmatic  httle  Dutch  settlements  upon  its  borders,  a 
great  and  puissant  concourse  of  warriors  was  assembling  at  the 
city  of  New- Amsterdam.  And  here  that  invaluable  fragment 
of  antiquity,  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript,  is  more  than  com- 
monly particular;  by  which  means  I  am  enabled  to  record  the 
illustrious  host  that  encamped  itself  in  the  public  square  in 
front  of  the  fort,  at  present  denominated  the  BowUng-Green. 

In  the  centre,  then,  was  pitched  the  tent  of  the  men  of  battle 
of  the  Manhattoes,  who  being  the  inmates  of  the  metropolis, 
composed  the  Hfe-guards  of  the  governor.  These  w^ere  com- 
manded by  the  valiant  Stoffel  Brinkerhoff,  w^ho  whilom  had 
acquired  such  immortal  fame  at  Oyster  Bay— they  displayed 
as  a  standard,  a  beaver  rampant  on  a  field  of  orange ;  being 
the  arms  of  the  province,  and  denoting  the  persevering  indus- 
try and  the  amphibious  origin  of  the  Nederlanders.* 


*  This  was  likewise  the  great  seal  of  the  New-Netherlands,  as  may  still  be  seen  in 
ancient  records. 


226 


A  1!JST01:Y  of  ^'EW- YORK. 


On  their  right  hand  might  be  seen  the  vassals  of  that  re- 
nowned Mynheer,  Michael  Paw,'^'  who  lorded  it  over  the  fair 
regions  of  ancient  Pavonia,  and  the  lands  away  south,  even 
unto  the  Navesink  mountains,!  and  was  moreover  patroon  of 
Gibbet  Island.  His  standard  was  borne  by  his  tmsty  squire, 
Cornelius  Van  Vorst;  consisting  of  a  huge  oyster  recumbent 
upon  a  sea-green  field;  being  the  armorial  bearings  of  his 
favourite  metropolis,  Communipaw.  He  brought  to  the  camp 
a  stout  force  of  warriors,  heavily  aimed,  being  each  clad  in  ten 
pair  of  linsey-woolsey  breeches,  and  overshadowed  by  broad- 
brimmed  beavers,  with  short  pipes  twisted  in  their  hat-bands. 
These  were  the  men  who  vegetated  in  the  mud  along  the 
shores  of  Pavonia;  being  of  the  race  of  genuine  copperheads, 
and  were  fabled  to  have  sprung  from  oysters. 

At  a  little  distance  were  encamped  the  tribe  of  warriors  who 
came  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Hell-Gate.  These  were  com- 
manded by  the  Suy  Dams,  and  the  Van  Dams,  incontinent 
hard  swearers,  as  their  names  betoken— they  were  terrible- 
looking  fellows,  clad  in  broad-skirted  gaberdines,  of  that  curi- 
ous coloured  cloth  called  thunder  and  hghtning — and  bore  as 
a  standard  three  Devil's-darning-needles,  volant,  in  a  flame- 
coloured  field. 

Hard  by  w^as  the  tent  of  the  men  of  battle  from  the  marshy 
borders  of  the  Waale-Boght  ]:  and  the  country  thereabouts— 
these  were  of  a  sour  aspect  by  reason  that  they  hved  on  crabs, 
which  abound  in  these  parts.  They  were  the  first  institutors 
of  that  honourable  order  of  knighthood,  called  Fly  market 
shirks,  and,  if  tradition  speak  true,  did  like^vise  introduce  the 
far-famed  step  in  dancing,  called  "double  trouble."  They 
were  commanded  by  the  fearless  Jacobus  Varra  Vanger,  and 
had  moreover  a  jolly  band  of  Breuckelen§  ferry-men,  who  per- 
formed a  brave  concerto  on  conch-shells. 

But  I  refrain  from  pursuing  this  minute  description,  which 


*  Besides  what  is  related  in  the  Stuyvesant  MS.,  I  have  found  mention  made  of  this 
illustrious  Patroon  in  another  manuscript,  which  says:  "  De  Heer  (or  the  squire) 
3Iichael  Paw,  a  Dutch  subject,  about  10th  Aug.,  1630,  by  deed  purchased  Statea 
Island.  N.  B.  The  same  Michael  Paw  had  what  the  Dutch  call  a  colonic  at  Pavonia, 
on  the  Jersey  shore,  opposite  New- York,  and  his  overseer,  in  16.:,'6,  was  named 
Coi-us  Van  Vorst— a  person  of  the  same  name  in  1769  owned  Powle.\  Hook,  and  a 
Iai-f?e  fai-m  at  Pavonia,  and  is  a  lineal  descendant  from  Van  Vorst." 

t  So  called  from  the  Navesink  tribe  of  Indians  that  inhabited  these  parts— at 
present  they  are  erroneously  denominated  the  Neversink.  or  Neversuiik  mountains. 

X  Since  corrupted  into  the  WaUubuuti  lue  bay  wliere  the  Navy- Yard  is  situated. 

%  Now  spelt  Brool^yn. 


A  UISTOUY  OF  NEW  YORK, 


221 


goes  on  to  describe  the  warriors  of  Bloemendael,  and  Wee- 
hawk,  and  Hoboken,  and  sundry  other  places,  well  known  in 
history  and  song— for  now  does  the  sound  of  martial  music 
alarm  the  people  of  New- Amsterdam,  sounding  afar  from  be* 
yond  the  walls  of  the  city.  But  this  alarm  was  in  a  httle 
Avliile  relieved ;  for  lo,  from  the  midst  of  a  vast  cloud  of  dust, 
fchey  recognised  the  brimstone-coloured  breeches,  and  splendid 
silver  leg,  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  glaring  in  the  sunbeams;  and 
beheld  him  approaching  at  the  head  of  a  formidable  army, 
which  he  had  mustered  along  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  And 
here  the  excellent,  but  anonymous  writer  of  the  Stuyvesant 
manuscript,  breaks  out  into  a  brave  and  glorious  description  of 
the  forces,  as  they  defiled  through  the  principal  gate  of  the 
city,  that  stood  by  the  head  of  Wall-street. 

First  of  all  came  the  Van  Bum m els,  who  inhabit  the  pleasant 
borders  of  the  Bronx — these  were  short  fat  men,  wearing  ex- 
ceeding large  trunk  breeches,  and  are  renowned  for  feats  of 
the  trencher— they  were  the  first  inventors  of  suppawn  or  mush- 
and-milk. — Close  in  their  rear  marched  the  Van  Vlotens,  of 
KaatskiU,  most  horrible  quaff  ers  of  new  cider,  and  arrant  brag- 
garts in  their  liquor. — After  them  came  the  Van  Pelts,  of  Groodt 
E^sopus,  dexterous  horsemen,  mounted  upon  goodly  switch- 
tailed  steeds  of  the  Esopus  breed— these  were  mighty  hunters 
of  minks  and  musk-rats,  whence  came  the  word  Peltry. — Then 
the  Van  Nests,  of  Kinderhook.  valiant  robbers  of  birds'  nests, 
as  their  name  denotes ;  to  these,  if  report  may  be  believed,  are 
we  indebted  for  the  invention  of  slap-jacks,  or  buckwheat 
cakes.— Then  the  Van  Higginbottoms,  of  Wapping's  creek; 
these  came  armed  with  ferules  and  birchen  rods,  being  a  race 
of  schoolmasters,  who  first  discovered  the  marvellous  sympa- 
thy between  the  seat  of  honour  and  the  seat  of  intellect,  and 
that  the  shortest  way  to  get  knowledge  into  the  head,  was  to 
hammer  it  into  the  bottom. — Then  the  Van  Grolls,  of  Antony's 
Nose,  who  carried  their  liquor  in  fair  round  little  pottles,  by 
reason  they  could  not  bouse  it  out  of  their  canteens,  having 
such  rare  long  noses. — Then  the  Gardeniers,  of  Hudson  and 
thereabouts,  distinguished  by  many  triumphant  feats,  such  as 
robbing  watermelon  patches,  smoking  rabbits  out  of  their  holes, 
and  the  like ;  and  by  being  great  lovers  of  roasted  pig's  tails ; 
these  were  the  ancestors  of  the  renowned  congressman  of  that 
name. — Tlien  the  Van  Hoesens,  of  Sing-Sing,  great  choristers 
and  players  upon  the  jews-harp ;  these  marched  two  and  two, 
singing  the  gi'cat  song  of  St.  Nicholas. — Then  the  Couenho vens. 


228 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOllK 


of  Sleepy  Hollow;  these  gave  birth  to  a  jolly  race  of  publi- 
cans, who  first  discovered  the  magic  artifice  of  conjuring  a 
quart  of  wine  into  a  pint  bottle.— Then  the  Van  Kortlandts, 
who  hved  on  the  wild  banks  of  the  Croton,  and  were  great 
killers  of  wild  ducks,  being  much  spoken  of  for  their  skill  in 
shooting  with  the  long  bow.— Then  the  Van  Bunschotens,  of 
Nyack  and  Kakiat,  who  were  the  first  that  did  ever  kick  with 
the  left  foot;  they  were  gallant  bush-whackers  and  hunters  of 
raccoons  by  moonlight.— Then  the  Van  Winkles,  of  Haerlem, 
potent  suckers  of  eggs,  and  noted  for  inmning  of  horses,  and 
running  up  of  scores  at  taverns ;  they  were  the  first  that  ever 
winked  with  both  eyes  at  once. — Lastly  came  the  Knicker- 
bockers, of  the  great  town  of  Schaghticoke,  where  the  folk 
lay  stones  upon  the  houses  in  windy  w-eather,  lest  they  should 
be  blown  away.  These  derive  their  name,  as  some  say,  from 
Knickei%  to  shake,  and  Beker,  a  goblet,  indicating  thereby  that 
they  were  sturdy  toss-pots  of  yore ;  but,  in  truth,  it  was  de- 
rived from  Knicker,  to  nod,  and  Boeken,  books ;  plainly  mean- 
ing  that  they  were  gi-eat  nodders  or  dozers  over  books — from 
them  did  descend  the  writer  of  this  history. 

Such  was  the  legion  of  sturdy  bush-beaters  that  poured  in  at 
the  grand  gate  of  New- Amsterdam ;  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript 
indeed  speaks  of  many  more,  whose  names  I  omit  to  mention, 
seeing  that  it  behoves  me  to  hasten  to  matters  of  greater  mo- 
ment. Nothing  could  surpass  the  joy  and  martial  pride  of  the 
lion-hearted  Peter,  as  he  reviewed  this  mighty  host  of  warriors, 
and  he  deterixdned  no  longer  to  defer  the  gratification  of  his 
much-wished-ior  revenge  upon  the  scoundrel  Swedes  at  Fort 
Casimir. 

But  before  I  hasten  to  record  those  immatchable  events, 
which  will  be  found  in  the  sequel  of  this  faithful  history, 
let  me  pause  to  notice  the  fate  of  Jacobus  Van  Poffen- 
burgh,  the  discomfited  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of 
the  New-Netherlands.  Such  is  the  inherent  uncharitableness 
of  human  nature,  that  scarcely  did  the  news  become  pubhc 
of  his  deplorable  discomfiture  at  Fort  Casimir,  than  a  thou- 
sand scurvy  rumoui^  were  set  afloat  in  New- Amsterdam, 
wherein  it  was  insinuated,  that  he  had  in  reality  a  treacher- 
ous understanding  with  the  Swedish  commander;  that  he  had 
long  been  in  the  practice  of  privately  communicating  with 
the  Swedes;  together  with  divers  hints  about  "secret  service 
money :"— to  all  which  dccidly  charges  I  do  not  ^ve  a  jot  more 
credit  than  I  think  they  deserve. 


A  HISTOllY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


229 


Certain  it  is,  that  the  general  vindicated  his  character  by  the 
most  vehement  oaths  and  protestations,  and  put  every  man 
out  of  the  ranks  of  honour  who  dared  to  doubt  his  integrity. 
Moreover,  on  returning  to  New- Amsterdam,  he  paraded  up  and 
down  the  streets  with  a  crew  of  hard  swearers  at  his  heels — 
sturdy  bottle  companions,  whom  he  gorged  and  fattened,  and 
who  were  ready  to  bolster  him  through  all  the  courts  of  justice 
—heroes  of  his  own  kidney,  fierce- whiskered,  broad-shouldered, 
colbrand-looking  swaggerers— not  one  of  whom  but  looked  as 
though  he  could  eat  up  an  ox,  and  pick  his  teeth  with  the  horns. 
These  life-guard  men  quarrelled  all  his  quarrels,  were  ready 
to  fight  all  his  battles,  and  scowled  at  every  man  that  turned 
up  liis  nose  at  the  general,  as  though  they  would  devour  him 
alive.  Their  conversation  was  interspersed  with  oaths  like 
minute-guns,  and  every  bombastic  rodomontado  was  rounded 
off  by  a  thundering  execration,  like  a  patriotic  toast  honoured 
with  a  discharge  of  artillery. 

All  these  valorous  vapourings  had  a  considerable  effect  in 
convincing  certain  profound  sages,  many  of  whom  began  to 
think  the  general  a  hero  of  unutterable  loftiness  and  magna- 
nimity of  soul,  particularly  as  he  was  continually  protesting  on 
the  honour  of  a  soldier — a  marvellously  high-sounding  assevera- 
tion. Nay,  one  of  the  members  of  the  council  went  so  far  as 
to  propose  they  should  immortahze  him  by  an  imperishable 
statute  of  plaster  of  Paris. 

But  the  vigilant  Peter  the  Headstrong  was  not  thus  to  be  de- 
ceived.— Sending  privately  for  the  commander-in-chief  of  all 
the  armies,  and  having  heard  all  his  story,  garnished  with  the 
customary  pious  oaths,  protestations,  and  ejaculations — "Har- 
kee,  comrade,"  cried  he,  "though  by  your  own  account  you 
are  the  most  brave,  upright,  and  honourable  man  in  the  whole 
province,  yet  do  you  he  under  the  misfortune  of  being  damna- 
bly traduced,  and  immeasurably  despised.  Now,  though  it  is 
certainly  hard  to  punish  a  man  for  his  misfortunes,  and  though 
it  is  very  possible  you  are  totally  innocent  of  the  crimes  laid  to 
your  charge,  yet  as  Heaven,  at  present,  doubtless  for  some 
wise  purpose,  sees  fit  to  withhold  all  proofs  of  your  innocence, 
far  be  it  from  me  to  counteract  its  sovereign  will.  Besides,  I 
cannot  consent  to  venture  my  armies  with  a  commander  whom 
they  despise,  or  to  trust  the  welfare  of  my  people  to  a  champion 
whom  they  distrust.  Retire,  therefore,  my  friend,  from  the 
irksome  toils  and  cares  of  public  life,  with  this  comforting  re- 
flection—that if  guilty,  you  are  but  enjoying  your  just  reward 


230 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


—and  if  innocent,  you  are  not  the  first  great  and  good  man 
who  has  most  wrongfully  been  slandered  and  maltreated  in 
this  wicked  world— doubtless  to  be  better  treated  in  a  better 
woiid,  where  there  shall  be  neither  error,  calumny,  nor  perse- 
cution. In  the  meantune  let  me  never  see  your  face  again,  for 
I  have  a  horrible  antipathy  to  the  countenances  of  unfortunate 
great  men  like  yourself." 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN  WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  DISCOURSES  VERY  INGENUOUSLY  OF  HIM- 
SELF—AFTER WHICH  IS  TO  BE  FOUND  MUCH  INTERESTING  HIS- 
TORY ABOUT  PETER  THE  HEADSTRONG  AND  HIS  FOLLOWERS. 

As  my  readers  and  myself  are  about  entering  on  as  many 
perils  as  ever  a  confederacy  of  meddlesome  knights-errant 
wilfully  ran  their  heads  into,  it  is  meet  that,  like  those  hardy 
adventurers,  we  should  join  hands,  bury  all  differences,  and 
swear  to  stand  by  one  another,  in  weal  or  woe,  to  the  end 
of  the  enterprise.  ^ly  readers  must  doubtless  perceive  how 
completely  I  have  altered  my  tone  and  deportment,  smce  we 
first  set  out  together.  I  warrant  they  then  thought  me  a 
crabbed,  cynical,  impertinent  httle  son  of  a  Dutchman,  for  I 
scarcely  ever  gave  them  a  civil  word,  nor  so  much  as  touched 
my  beaver,  when  I  had  occasion  to  address  them.  But  as  we 
jogged  along  together,  in  the  high-road  of  my  history,  I 
gi*adually  began  to  relax,  to  grow  more  courteous,  and  oc- 
casionally to  enter  into  familiar  discourse,  until  at  length  I 
came  to  conceive  a  most  social,  companionable,  kind  regard 
for  them.  This  is  just  my  way — I  am  always  a  Kttle  cold 
and  reserved  at  first,  particularly  to  people  whom  I  neither 
know  nor  care  for,  and  am  only  to  be  completely  won  by 
long  intimacy. 

Besides,  why  should  I  have  been  sociable  to  the  crowd  of 
how-d'ye-do  acquaintances  that  flocked  around  me  at  my  first 
appearance?  Many  were  merely  attracted  by  a  new  face;  and 
having  stared  me  fuU  in  the  title-page,  walked  off  without  say- 
ing a  word;  while  others  lingered  yawningly  through  the 
preface,  and  having  gratified  their  short-hved  curiosity,  soon 
dropped  off  one  by  one.    But  more  especially  to  try  theu^  met- 


A  UI8T011Y  OF  NEW- TO  UK. 


231 


tie,  I  had  recourse  to  an  expedient,  similar  to  one  which  we  are 
told  was  used  by  the  peerless  flower  of  chivalry.  King  Arthur ; 
who,  before  he  admitted  any  knight  to  his  intimacy,  first  re- 
quii'ed  that  he  should  show  himself  superior  to  danger  or 
hardships,  by  encountering  unheard-of  mishaps,  slaying  somo 
dozen  giants,  vanquisliing  wicked  enchantere,  not  to  say  a 
word  of  dwarfs,  hippogriffs,  and  fiery  dragons.  On  a  similar 
principle,  I  cunningly  led  my  readers,  at  the  first  sally,  into 
two  or  three  knotty  chapters,  where  they  were  most  wofully 
belaboured  and  buffeted  by  a  host  of  pagan  philosopliers  and 
infidel  writers.  Though  naturally  a  very  grave  man,  yet  could 
I  scarce  refrain  from  smiling  outright  at  seeing  the  utter  con- 
fusion and  dismay  of  my  valiant  cavaHers — some  dropped  down 
dead  (asleep)  on  the  field ;  others  thi-ew  down  my  book  in  the 
middle  of  the  first  chapter,  took  to  their  heels,  and  never  ceased 
scampering  until  they  had  fairly  run  it  out  of  sight ;  when  they 
stopped  to  take  breath,  to  tell  their  friends  what  troubles  they 
had  undergone,  and  to  warn  all  others  from  venturing  on  so 
thankless  an  expedition.  Every  page  thinned  my  ranks  more 
and  more ;  and  of  the  vast  multitude  that  first  set  out,  but  a 
comparatively  few  made  shift  to  survive,  in  exceedingly  bat- 
tered condition,  through  the  five  introductory  chapters. 

What,  then!  would  you  have  had  me  take  such  sunsliine, 
faint-hearted  recreants  to  my  bosom  at  our  first  acquaintance? 
No — no ;  I  reserved  my  friendship  for  those  who  deserved  it, 
for  those  who  imdauntedly  bore  me  company,  in  spite  of  diSB.- 
culties,  dangers,  and  fatigues.  And  now,  as  to  those  who  ad- 
here to  me  at  present,  I  take  them  affectionately  by  the  hand. 
— Worthy  and  thrice-beloved  readers!  brave  and  well-tried 
comrades !  who  have  faithfully  followed  my  footsteps  through, 
all  my  wanderings — I  salute  you  from  my  heart — I  pledge  my- 
self to  stand  by  you  to  the  last ;  and  to  conduct  you  (so  Heaven 
speed  this  trusty  weapon  which  I  now  hold  between  my  fin- 
gers) triumphantly  to  the  end  of  this  our  stupendous  under- 
taking. 

But,  hark !  while  we  are  thus  talking,  the  city  of  New-Am^ 
sterdam  is  in  a  bustle.  Tlie  host  of  warriors  encamped  in  the 
Bowling-Green  are  stril^ing  their  tents ;  the  brazen  tnunpct  of 
Antony  Van  Corlear  makes  the  welkin  to  resound  ^vith  porten- 
tous clangour — the  drums  beat— the  standards  of  the  Manhat- 
toes,  of  Hell-Gate,  and  of  Michael  Paw,  wave  proudly  in  the 
air.  And  now  behold  where  the  mariners  are  busily  employed 
hoisting  the  sails  of  yon  topsail  schooner,  and  those  clump-built 


232 


A  HISTORY  OF  NKW-TORK. 


sloops,  which  are  to  waft  the  army  of  the  Nederlanders  to 
gather  immortal  honours  on  the  Delaware  1 

The  entire  population  of  the  city,  man,  woman,  and  child, 
turned  out  to  behold  the  chivalry  of  New-Amsterdam,  as  it 
paraded  the  streets  pre\^ous  to  embarkation.  Many  a  handker- 
chief was  waved  out  at  the  windows ;  many  a  fair  nose  was 
blown  in  melodious  sorrow,  on  the  mournful  occasion.  The 
grief  of  the  fair  dames  and  beauteous  damsels  of  Granada  coidd 
not  have  been  more  vociferous  on  the  banishment  of  the  {gal- 
lant tribe  of  Abencerrages,  than  was  that  of  the  kind  hearted 
fair  ones  of  New- Amsterdam  on  the  departure  of  their  intrepid 
warriors.  Every  love-sick  maiden  fondly  crammed  the  pock- 
ets of  her  hero  with  gingerbread  and  doughnuts — many  a  cop- 
per ring  was  exchanged  and  crooked  sixpence  broken,  in  pledge 
of  eternal  constancy — and  there  remain  extant  to  this  day  some 
love-verses  written  on  that  occasion,  sufficiently  crabbed  and 
incomprehensible  to  confound  the  whole  universe. 

But  it  was  a  moving  sight  to  see  the  buxom  lasses,  how  they 
hung  about  the  doughty  Antony  Van  Corlear — for  he  was  a 
jolly,  rosy-faced,  lusty  bachelor,  fond  of  his  joke,  and  ^vithal  a 
desperate  rogue  among  the  women.  Fain  would  they  have 
kept  him  to  comfort  them  while  the  army  was  away ;  for  be- 
sides what  I  have  said  of  him,  it  is  no  more  than  justice  to  add, 
that  he  was  a  kind-hearted  soul,  noted  for  his  benevolent  at- 
tentions in  comforting  disconsolate  wives  during  the  absence 
of  their  husbands — and  this  made  him  to  be  very  much  re- 
garded by  the  honest  burghers  of  the  city.  But  nothing  could 
keep  the  valiant  Antony  from  following  the  heels  of  the  old 
governor,  whom  he  loved  as  he  did  his  very  soul — so,  embrac- 
ing all  the  young  \touws,  and  giving  every  one  of  them  that 
had  good  teeth  and  rosy  hps,  a  dozen  hearty  smacks,  he  de- 
parted loaded  with  their  kind  wishes. 

Nor  was  the  departure  of  the  gallant  Peter  among  the  least 
causes  of  pubhc  distress.  Though  the  old  governor  was  by  no 
means  indulgent  to  the  follies  and  waywardness  of  his  subjects, 
yet  some  how  or  other  he  had  become  strangely  popular  among 
the  people.  There  is  something  so  captivating  in  personal 
bravery,  that,  with  the  common  mass  of  mankind,  it  takes  the 
lead  of  most  other  merits.  The  simple  folk  of  New- Amsterdam 
looked  upon  Peter  Stuyvesant  as  a  prodigy  of  valour.  His 
wooden  leg,  that  trophy  of  his  martial  encounter,  was  regarded 
with  reverence  and  admiration.  Every  old  burgher  had  a 
budget  of  miraculous  stories  to  tell  about  the  exploits  of  Hard- 


A  IlISTOnT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


233 


kopping  Piet,  wherewith  he  regaled  his  children  of  a  long  win- 
ter night;  and  on  which  he  dwelt  with  as  much  delight  and 
exaggeration,  as  do  our  honest  country  yeomen  on  the  hardy 
adventures  of  old  General  Putnam  (or  as  he  is  familiarly 
termed,  Old  Put.)  during  our  glorious  revolution.  Not  an  in- 
dividual but  verily  believed  the  old  governor  was  a  match  for , 
Belzebub  himself ;  and  there  was  even  a  story  told,  with  great 
mystery,  and  under  the  rose,  of  his  having  shot  the  devil  with 
a  silver  bullet,  one  dark,  stormy  night,  as  he  was  saihng  in  a 
canoe  through  Hell-Gate.— But  this  I  do  not  record  as  being  an 
absolute  fact — perish  the  man  who  would  let  fall  a  drop  to  dis- 
colour the  pure  stream  of  history ! 

Certain  it  is,  not  an  old  woman  in  New- Amsterdam  but  con- 
sidered Peter  Stuyvesant  as  a  tower  of  strength,  and  rested 
satisfied  that  the  public  welfare  was  secure  so  long  as  he  was 
in  the  city.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that  they  looked  upon 
his  departure  as  a  sore  affliction.  With  heavy  hearts  they 
dragged  at  the  heels  of  his  troop,  as  they  marched  down  to  the 
river  side  to  embark.  The  governor,  from  the  stern  of  his 
schooner,  gave  a  short,  but  truly  patriarchal  address  to  his 
citizens ;  wherein  he  recommended  them  to  comport  like  loyal 
and  peaceable  subjects — to  go  to  church  regularly  on  Sundays, 
and  to  mind  their  business  all  the  week  besides. — That  the 
women  should  be  dutiful  and  affectionato  to  their  husbands — 
looking  after  nobody's  concerns  but  their  own :  eschewing  all 
gossipings  and  morning  gaddings  —and  carrying  short  tongues 
and  long  petticoats.— That  the  men  should  abstain  from  inter- 
meddling in  public  concerns,  intrusting  the  cares  of  govern- 
ment to  the  officers  appointed  to  support  them — staying  at 
home  like  good  citizens,  m.aking  money  for  themselves,  and 
getting  children  for  the  benefit  of  their  country.  That  the 
burgomasters  should  look  well  to  the  public  interest— not  op- 
pressing the  poor,  nor  indulging  the  rich — not  tasking  their 
sagacity  to  devise  new  laws;  but  faithfully  enforcing  those 
which  were  already  made — rather  bending  their  attention  to 
prevent  evil  than  to  punish  it;  ever  recollecting  that  civil 
magistrates  should  consider  themselves  more  as  guardians  of 
public  morals,  than  rat-catchers  employed  to  entrap  pubhc 
dehnquents.  Finally,  he  exhorted  them,  one  and  all,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  to  conduct  themselves  as  iceJl  as  they 
could;  assuring  them  that  if  they  faithfully  and  conscien- 
tiously comphed  with  this  golden  rule,  there  was  no  danger 
but  that  they  would  all  conduct  themselves  well  enough.— This 


284 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


done,  he  gave  them  a  paternal  benediction ;  the  sturdy  Antony- 
sounded  a  most  loving  farewell  with  his  trumpet,  the  jolly 
crews  put  up  a  shout  of  triumph,  and  the  invincible  armada 
swept  off  proudly  down  the  bay. 

The  good  people  of  New- Amsterdam  crowded  down  to  the 
Battery — that  blest  resort,  from  whence  so  many  a  tender 
prayer  has  been  wafted,  so  many  a  fair  hand  waved,  so  many 
a  tearful  look  been  cast  by  love-sick  damsels,  after  the  lessen- 
ing bark,  bearing  her  adventurous  swain  to  distant  climes. 
Here  the  populace  watched  with  straining  eyes  the  gallant 
squadron,  as  it  slowly  floated  down  the  bay,  and  when  the  in- 
tervening land  at  the  Narrows  shut  it  from  their  sight^ 
gradually  dispersed  with  silent  tongues  and  downcast  coun 
tenances. 

A  heavy  gloom  hung  over  the  late  busthng  city. — Tlie  honest 
burghers  smoked  their  pipes  in  profound  thoughthilness,  cast- 
ing many  a  wistful  look  to  the  weathercock,  on  the  church  of 
Saint  Nicholas ;  and  all  the  old  women,  having  no  longer  the 
presence  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  to  hearten  them,  gathered  their 
children  home,  and  barricadoed  the  doors  and  windows  every 
evening  at'sun-down. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  armada  of  the  sturdy  Peter  proceeded 
prosperously  on  its  voyage,  and  after  encountermg  about  as 
many  storms,  and  waterspouts,  and  whales,  and  other  horrore 
and  phenomena,  as  generally  befall  adventurous  landsmen,  in 
perilous  voyages  of  the  kind;  and  after  undergoing  a  severe 
scouring  from  that  deplorable  and  unpitied  malady  called  sea- 
sickness, the  whole  squadron  arrived  safely  in  the  Delaware. 

Without  so  much  as  dropping  anchor  and  giving  his  wearied 
ships  time  to  breathe  after  labouring  so  long  in  the  ocean,  the 
intrepid  Peter  pursued  his  course  up  the  Delaware,  and  made 
a  sudden  appearance  before  Fort  Casimir. —Having  summoned 
the  astonished  garrison  by  a  terrific  blast  from  the  trumpet  of 
the  long-winded  Van  Corlear,  he  demanded  m  a  tone  of  thun- 
der an  instant  surrender  of  the  fort.  To  this  demand,  Suen 
Scutz,  the  wind-dried  commandant,  repHed  in  a  shrill,  whiffling 
voice,  which,  by  reason  of  his  extreme  spareness,  sounded  hko 
the  wind  whistling  through  a  broken  bellows — "that  he  had 
no  very  strong  reasons  for  refusing,  except  that  the  demand 
was  particularly  disagreeable,  as  he  had  been  ordered  to  main- 
tain his  post  to  the  last  extremity."  He  requested  time,  there- 
fore, to  consult  with  Governor  Risingh,  and  proposed  a  truce 
for  that  purpose. 


A  HISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


235 


The  choleric  Peter,  indignant  at  having  his  rightful  fort  so 
treacherously  taken  from  him,  and  thus  pertinaciously  with- 
held, refused  the  proposed  armistice,  and  swore  by  the  pipe 
of  St.  Nicholas,  which  like  the  sacred  fire  was  never  extin- 
guished, that  unless  the  fort  were  surrendered  in  ten  minutes, 
he  would  incontinently  storm  the  works,  make  all  the  garrison 
run  the  gauntlet,  and  split  their  scoundrel  of  a  commander 
hke  a  pickled  shad.  To  give  this  menace  the  greater  effect,  he 
drew  forth  his  trusty  sword,  and  shook  it  at  them  with  such  a 
fierce  and  vigorous  motion,  that  doubtless  if  it  had  not  been 
exceeding  rusty,  it  would  have  lightened  terror  into  the  eyes 
and  hearts  of  the  enemy.  He  then  ordered  his  men  to  bring 
a  broadside  to  bear  upon  the  fort,  consisting  of  two  swivels, 
three  muskets,  a  long  duck  fowling-piece,  and  two  brace  of 
horse-pistols. 

In  the  meantime  the  sturdy  Van  Corlear  marshalled  all 
his  forces,  and  commenced  his  warlike  operations.  Distending 
bis  cheeks  like  a  very  Boreas,  he  kept  up  a  most  horrific 
twanging  of  his  trumpet — the  lusty  choristers  of  Sing-sing 
broke  forth  into  a  hideous  song  of  battle— the  warriors  of 
Breuckelen  and  the  Wallabout  blew  a  potent  and  astounding 
blast  on  their  conch-shells,  altogether  forming  as  outrageous  a 
concerto  as  though  five  thousand  French  orchestras  were  dis- 
playing their  skill  in  a  modern  overture. 

Whether  the  formidable  front  of  war  thus  suddenly  pre- 
sented, smote  the  garrison  with  sore  dismay — or  whether  the 
concluding  terms  of  the  summons,  which  mentioned  that  he 
should  surrender  "at  discretion"  were  mistaken  by  Suen 
Scutz,  who,  though  a  Swede,  was  a  very  considerate,  easy- 
tempered  man — as  a  compliment  to  his  discretion,  I  will  not 
take  upon  me  to  say ;  certain  it  is,  he  found  it  impossible  to 
resist  so  courteous  a  dema,nd.  Accordingly,  in  the  very  nick 
of  time,  just  as  the  cabin-boy  had  gone  after  a  coal  of  fire,  to 
discharge  the  swivel,  a  chamade  was  beat  on  the  rampart,  by 
the  only  drum  in  the  garrison,  to  the  no  small  satisfaction  of 
both  pai-ties;  who,  notwithstanding  their  great  stomach  for 
fighting,  had  full  as  good  an  inclination  to  eat  a  quiet  dinner, 
as  to  exchange  black  ej^es  and  bloody  noses. 

Thus  did  this  impregnable  fortress  once  more  return  to  the 
domination  of  their  High  Mightinesses ;  Scutz  and  his  garrison 
of  twenty  men  were  allowed  to  march  out  with  the  honours  of 
war,  and  the  victorious  Peter,  who  was  as  generous  as  brave, 
permitted  them  to  keep  possession  of  all  their  arms  and  am- 


236 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW-YORK. 


munition— the  same  on  inspection  being  f omid  totally  unfit  fol 
service,  having  long  rusted  in  the  magazine  of  the  fortress, 
even  before  it  was  wrested  by  the  Swedes  from  the  magnani- 
mous, but  windy  Van  Poffenburgh.  But  I  must  not  omit  to 
mention,  that  the  governor  was  so  well  pleased  with  the  ser- 
vices of  his  faithful  Squire  Van  Corlear,  in  the  reduction  of 
this  great  fortress,  that  he  made  him  on  the  spot  lord  of  a 
goodly  domain  in  the  vicinity  of  New-Amsterdam — which 
goes  by  the  name  of  Corlear's  Hook  unto  this  very  day. 

The  unexampled  hberality  of  the  vahant  Stuyvesant  to- 
wards the  Swedes  occasioned  great  siu-prise  in  the  city  of 
New-Amsterdam — nay,  certain  of  these  factious  individuals, 
who  had  been  enlightened  by  the  pohtical  meetings  that  pre- 
vailed during  the  days  of  William  the  Testy,  but  who  had 
not  dared  to  mdulge  their  meddlesome  habits  under  the  eye  of 
their  present  ruler,  now  emboldened  by  his  absence,  dared 
even  to  give  vent  to  their  censures  in  the  street.  Murmurs 
were  heard  in  the  very  comicil  chamber  of  New- Amsterdam ; 
and  there  is  no  knowing  whether  they  would  not  have  broken 
out  into  downright  speeches  and  invectives,  had  not  Peter 
Stuyvesant  privately  sent  home  his  walking-staff,  to  be  laid  as 
a  mace  on  the  table  of  the  council  chamber,  in  the  midst  of  Ms 
counsellors ;  who,  hke  wise  men,  took  the  hint,  and  for  ever 
after  held  their  peace. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SHOWING  THE  GREAT  ADVANTAGE  THAT  THE  AUTHOR  HAS  OVER 
HIS  READER  IN  TIME  OP  BATTLE — TOGETHER  WITH  DIVERS  POR- 
TENTOUS MOVEMENTS,  WHICH  BETOKEN  THAT  SOMETHING  TER- 
RIBLE IS  ABOUT  TO  HAPPEN. 

Like  as  a  mighty  alderman,  when  at  a  corporation  feast  the 
first  spoonful  of  turtle  soup  salutes  his  palate,  feels  his  impa- 
tient appetite  but  tenfold  quickened,  and  redoubles  his  vigor- 
ous attacks  upon  the  tureen,  while  his  voracious  eyes,  project- 
ing from  his  head,  roll  greedily  round,  devouring  every  thing 
at  table — so  did  the  mettlesome  Peter  Stuyvesant  feel  that  in- 
tolerable hunger  for  martial  glory,  which  raged  ^vithin  his 
very  bowels,  inflamed  by  the  capture  of  Fort  Casimir,  and 
nothing  could  allay  it  but  the  conquest  of  aU  New-Sweden, 


A  J  IIS  TOE  Y  OF  NEW- YORK. 


237 


No  sooner,  therefore,  had  he  secured  his  conquest,  than  ho 
stumped  resolutely  on,  flushed  with  success,  to  gather  fresh 
laurels  at  Fort  Christina.* 

This  was  the  grand  Swedish  post,  established  on  a  small 
river  (or  as  it  is  improperly  termed,  creek)  of  the  same  name ; 
and  here  that  crafty  Governor  Jan  Risingh  lay  grimly  drawn 
up,  like  a  gray -bearded  spider  in  the  citadel  of  his  web. 

But  before  we  hurry  into  the  direful  scenes  that  must  attend 
the  meeting  of  two  such  potent  chieftains,  it  is  advisable  that 
we  pause  for  a  moment,  and  hold  a  kind  of  warlike  council. 
Battles  should  not  be  rushed  into  precipitately  by  the  historian 
and  his  readers,  any  more  than  by  the  general  and  his  soldiers. 
The  great  commanders  of  antiquity  never  engaged  the  enemy, 
without  previously  preparing  the  minds  of  their  followers  by 
animating  harangues ;  spiriting  them  up  to  heroic  feelings,  as- 
suring them  of  the  protection  of  the  gods,  and  inspiring  them 
with  a  confidence  in  the  prowess  of  their  leaders.  So  the  his- 
torian should  awaken  the  attention  and  enhst  the  passions  of 
his  readers,  and  having  set  them  all  on  fire  with  the  impor- 
tance of  his  subject,  he  should  put  himself  at  their  head,  flour- 
ish his  pen,  and  lead  them  on  to  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 

An  illustrious  example  of  this  rule  may  be  seen  in  that  mir- 
ror of  historians,  the  immortal  Thucydides.  Having  arrived 
at  the  breaking  out  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  one  of  his  com- 
mentators observes,  that  "he  soimds  the  charge  in  all  the  dis- 
position and  spirit  of  Homer.  He  catalogues  the  allies  on  both 
sides.  He  awakens  our  expectations,  and  fast  engages  our  at- 
fcention.  All  mankind  are  concerned  in  the  important  point 
now  going  to  be  decided.  Endeavours  are  made  to  disclose  fu- 
turity. Heaven  itself  is  interested  in  the  dispute.  The  earth 
totters,  and  nature  seems  to  labour  with  the  great  event.  This 
is  his  solemn  subhme  manner  of  setting  out.  Thus  he  magni- 
fies a  war  between  two,  as  Rapin  styles  them,  petty  states; 
and  thus  artfully  he  supports  a  little  subject,  by  treating  it  in 
a  great  and  noble  method." 

In  like  manner,  having  conducted  my  readers  into  the  very 
teeth  of  peril— having  followed  the  adventurous  Peter  and  his 
band  into  foreign  regions— surrounded  by  foes,  and  stunned  by 
the  horrid  din  of  arms — at  this  important  moment,  while  dark- 
ness and  doubt  hang  o'er  each  coming  chapter,  I  hold  it  meet 


*  This  is  at  present  a  flourishing  town,  called  Christiana,  or  Christeen,  about 
tfairty-seven  miles  from  Philadelphia,  on  the  post-roo/J  to  Baltimore. 


238 


A  niSTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


to  harangue  them,  and  prepare  them  for  the  events  that  are  to 
follow. 

And  here  I  would  premise  one  great  advantage  which,  as  the 
historian,  I  possess  over  my  reader ;  and  this  it  is,  that  though 
I  cannot  save  the  life  of  my  favourite  hero,  nor  absolutely 
contradict  the  event  of  a  battle,  (both  which  liberties,  though 
often  taken  by  the  French  writers  of  the  present  reign,  I  hold 
to  be  utterly  unworthy  of  a  scrupulous  historian,)  yet  I  can 
now  and  then  make  him  to  bestow  on  his  enemy  a  sturdy 
back-stroke  suflScient  to  fell  a  giant ;  though,  in  honest  truth, 
he  may  never  have  done  any  thing  of  the  kind — or  I  can  drive 
his  antagonist  clear  round  and  round  the  field,  as  did  Homer 
make  that  fine  fellow  Hector  scamper  like  a  poltroon  round 
the  walls  of  Troy ;  for  which,  if  ever  they  have  encountered 
one  another  in  the  Elysian  fields,  I'll  warrant  the  prince  of 
poets  has  had  to  make  the  most  humble  apology. 

I  am  aware  that  many  conscientious  readers  will  be  ready  to 
cry  out  ' '  foul  play !"  whenever  I  render  a  httle  assistance  to 
my  hero— but  I  consider  it  one  of  those  privileges  exercised  by 
historians  of  all  ages,  and  one  which  has  never  been  disputed. 
In  fact,  a  historian  is,  as  it  were,  bound  in  honour  to  stand  by 
his  hero — the  fame  of  the  latter  is  intrusted  to  his  hands,  and 
it  is  his  duty  to  do  the  best  by  it  he  can.  Never  was  there  a 
general,  an  admiral,  or  any  other  commander,  who,  in  giving 
an  account  of  any  battle  he  had  fought,  did  not  sorely  bela- 
bour the  enemy ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  had  my  heroes 
written  the  history  of  their  own  achievements,  they  would 
have  dealt  much  harder  blows  than  any  that  I  shaU  recount. 
Standing  forth,  therefore,  as  the  guardian  of  their  fame,  it  be- 
hoves me  to  do  them  the  same  justice  they  would  have  done 
themselves;  and  if  I  happen  to  be  a  httle  hard  upon  the 
Swedes,  I  give  free  leave  to  any  of  their  descendants,  who 
may  write  a  history  of  the  State  of  Delaware,  to  take  fair 
fetaliation,  and  belabour  Peter  Stuyvesant  as  hard  as  they 
please. 

Therefore  stand  by  for  broken  heads  and  bloody  noses !— my 
pen  hath  long  itched  for  a  battle — siege  after  siege  have  I  car- 
ried on  without  blows  or  bloodshed ;  but  now  I  have  at  length 
got  a  chance,  and  I  vow  to  Heaven  and  St.  Nicholas,  that,  let 
the  chronicles  of  the  time  say  what  they  please,  neither  Sal- 
lust,  Livy,  Tacitus,  Polybius,  nor  any  other  historian,  did  ever 
record  a  fiercer  fight  than  that  in  which  my  valiant  chief  taina 
are  now  about  to  engage. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


230 


And  you,  oh  most  excellent  readers,  whom,  for  your  faith- 
ful adherence,  I  could  cherish  in  the  warmest  corner  of  my 
heart— be  not  uneasy — trust  the  fate  of  our  favourite  Stuyve- 
sant  to  me — for  by  the  rood,  come  what  may,  I'll  stick  by  Hard- 
kopping  Piet  to  the  last;  I'll  make  him  drive  about  these  losels 
vile,  as  did  the  renowned  Launcelot  of  the  lake,  a  herd  of  re- 
creant Cornish  knights — and  if  he  does  fall,  let  me  never  draw 
my  pen  to  fight  another  battle,  in  behalf  of  a  brave  man,  if  1 
don't  make  these  lubberly  Swedes  pay  for  it. 

No  sooner  had  Peter  Stuy vesant  arrived  before  Fort  Chris- 
tina than  he  proceeded  without  delay  to  intrench  himself,  and 
immediately  on  running  his  first  parallel,  despatched  Antony 
Van  Corlear  to  summon  the  fortress  to  surrender.  Van  Cor- 
lear  was  received  with  aU  due  formahty,  hoodwinked  at  the 
portal,  and  conducted  through  a  pestiferous  smeU  of  salt  fish 
and  onions,  to  the  citadel,  a  substantial  hut,  built  of  pine  logs. 
His  eyes  were  here  uncovered,  and  he  found  himself  in  the 
august  presence  of  Governor  Risingh.  This  chieftain,  as  I 
have  before  noted,  was  a  very  giantly  man ;  and  was  clad  in  a 
coarse  blue  coat,  strapped  round  the  waist  with  a  leathern 
belt,  which  caused  the  enormous  skirts  and  pockets  to  set  ofi 
with  a  very  warlike  sweep.  His  ponderous  legs  were  cased 
in  a  pair  of  foxy -coloured  jack-boots,  and  he  was  straddling  in 
the  attitude  of  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  before  a  bit  of  broken 
looking-glass,  shaving  himself  with  a  villainously  dull  razor. 
This  afilicting  operation  caused  him  to  make  a  series  of  hor- 
rible grimaces,  that  heightened  exceedingly  the  grizzly  terrors 
of  his  visage.  On  Antony  Van  Corlear 's  being  announced,  the 
grim  commander  paused  for  a  moment,  in  the  midst  of  one  ol 
his  most  hard-favoured  contortions,  and  after  eyeing  him  as- 
kance over  his  shoulder,  with  a  kind  of  snarling  grin  on  hia 
countenance,  resumed  his  labours  at  the  glass. 

This  iron  harvest  being  reaped,  he  turned  once  more  to  the 
trumpeter,  and  demanded  the  purport  of  his  errand.  Antony 
Van  Corlear  delivered  in  a  few  words,  being  a  kind  of  short- 
hand speaker,  a  long  message  from  his  excellency,  recounting 
the  whole  history  of  the  province,  with  a  recapitulation  of 
grievances,  and  enumeration  of  claims,  and  concluding  with  a 
peremptory  demand  of  instant  surrender;  which  done,  he 
turned  aside,  took  his  nose  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  and 
blew  a  tremendous  blast,  no*  unlike  the  flourish  of  a  trumpet 
of  defiance  —which  it  had  doubtless  learned  from  a  long  and 
intimate  neighbourhood  with  that  melodious  insti-ument 


240 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


Governor  Risingh  heard  him  through,  trumpet  and  all,  but 
with  infinite  impatience;  leaning  at  times,  as  was  his  usual 
custom,  on  the  pommel  of  his  sword,  and  at  times  twirhng  a 
huge  steel  watch-chain,  or  snapping  his  fingers.  Van  Corlear 
having  finished,  he  bluntly  replied,  that  Peter  Stuyvesant  and 

his  smnmons  might  go  to  the  d  h  whither  he  hoped  to  send 

him  and  his  crew  of  ragamuffins  before  supper-time.  Then 
Unsheathing  his  brass-hilted  sword,  and  throwing  away  the 
scabbard—"  Fore  gad,"  quod  he,  "but  I  will  not  sheathe  thee 
again,  until  I  make  a  scabbard  of  the  smoke-dried,  leathern 
hide  of  this  runagate  Dutchman."  Then  having  flung  a  fierce 
defiance  in  the  teeth  of  his  adversary,  by  the  lips  of  his  mes- 
senger, the  latter  was  reconducted  to  the  portal,  with  all  the 
ceremonious  civility  due  to  the  trumpeter,  'squire,  and  am- 
bassador of  so  great  a  commander,  and  being  again  unblinded, 
was  courteously  dismissed  with  a  tweak  of  the  nose,  to  assist 
him  in  recollecting  his  message. 

No  sooner  did  the  gallant  Peter  receive  this  insolent  reply, 
than  he  let  fly  a  tremendous  volley  of  rod-hot  execrations,  that 
would  infallibly  have  battered  down  the  fortifications,  and 
blown  up  the  powder-magazine  about  the  ears  of  the  fiery 
Swede,  had  not  the  ramparts  been  remarkably  strong,  and  the 
magazine  bomb-proof.  Perceiving  that  the  works  withstood 
this  terrific  blast,  and  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  (as  it 
really  was  in  those  unphilosophic  days)  to  carry  on  a  war  with 
words,  he  ordered  his  merry  men  all  to  prepare  for  an  im- 
mediate assault.  But  here  a  strange  murmur  broke  out 
among  his  troops,  beginning  with  the  tribe  of  the  Van  Bum- 
mels,  those  valiant  trencher-men  of  the  Bronx,  and  spreading 
from  man  to  man,  accompanied  ^vith  certain  mutinous  looks 
and  discontented  murmurs.  For  once  in  his  hfe,  and  only  for 
once,  did  the  great  Peter  turn  pale,  for  he  verily  thought  his 
warriors  were  going  to  falter  in  this  hour  of  perilous  trial,  and 
thus  tarnish  for  ever  the  fame  of  the  province  of  New-Neder- 
lands. 

But  soon  did  he  discover,  to  his  great  joy,  that  in  this  suspi- 
cion he  deeply  wronged  this  most  undaunted  army ;  for  the 
cause  of  this  agitation  and  uneasiness  simply  was,  that  the 
hour  of  dinner  was  at  hand,  and  it  would  have  almost  broken 
the  hearts  of  these  regular  Dutch  warriors,  to  have  broken  in 
upon  the  invariable  routine  of  their  habits.  Besides,  it  was 
an  established  rule  among  our  vahant  ancestors,  always  to 
fight  upon  a  full  stomach,  and  to  this  may  be  doubtless  at* 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


241 


tributed  the  circumstance  that  they  came  to  be  so  renowned 
in  arms. 

And  now  are  the  hearty  men  of  the  Manhattoes,  and  their 
no  less  hearty  comrades,  all  lustily  engaged  under  the  trees, 
buffeting  stoutly  with  the  contents  of  their  wallets,  and  taking 
such  affectionate  embraces  of  their  canteens  and  pottles,  as 
though  they  verily  believed  they  were  to  be  the  last.  And  as 
I  foresee  we  shall  have  hot  work  in  a  page  or  two,  I  advise  my 
readers  to  do  the  same,  for  which  purpose  I  will  bring  this 
chapter  to  a  close;  giving  them  my  word  of  honour  that  no 
advantage  shall  bo  taken  of  this  armistice  to  surprise,  or  in 
any  wise  molest,  the  honest  Nederlanders  while  at  their  vigor- 
ous repast. 


-  CHAPTER  VII. 

CONTAINING  THE  MOST  HORRIBLE  BATTLE  EVER  RECORDED  IN 
POETRY  OR  PROSE— WITH  THE  ADMIRABLE  EXPLOITS  OF  PETER 
THE  HEADSTRONG. 

"  Now  had  the  Dutchmen  snatched  a  huge  repast,"  and  find- 
ing themselves  wonderfully  encouraged  and  animated  thereby, 
prepared  to  take  the  field.  Expectation,  says  the  writer  of 
the  Stuyvesant  manuscript— Expectation  now  stood  on  stilts. 
The  world  forgot  to  turn  round,  or  rather  stood  still,  that  it 
might  witness  the  affray;  like  a  fat,  round-bellied  alderman, 
watching  the  combat  of  two  chivalric  flies  upon  his  jerkin. 
The  eyes  of  all  mankind,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  were  turned 
upon  Fort  Christina.  The  sun,  like  a  little  man  in  a  crowd 
at  a  puppet-show,  scampered  about  the  heavens,  popping  his 
head  here  and  there,  and  endeavouring  to  get  a  peep  between 
the  unmannerly  clouds  that  obtruded  themselves  in  his  way. 
The  historians  filled  their  ink-horns— the  poets  went  without 
their  dinners,  either  that  they  might  buy  paper  and  goose- 
quills,  or  because  they  could  not  get  any  thing  to  eat— anti- 
quity scowled  sulkily  out  of  its  grave,  to  see  itself  outdone— 
while  even  posterity  stood  mute,  gazing  in  gaping  ecstasy  of 
retrospection  on  the  eventful  field. 

The  immortal  deities,  who  whilom  had  seen  service  at  the 
''affair"  of  Troy— now  mounted  their  feather-bed  clouds,  and 
sailed  over  the  plain  or  mingled  among  the  combatants  in  dif- 


242 


A  IITSTOnr  OF  NEW-TORK. 


ferent  disguises,  all  itching  to  have  a  finger  in  the  pie.  Jupi- 
ter sent  oif  his  thunderbolt  to  a  noted  coppersmith,  to  have  it 
furbished  up  for  the  direful  occasion.  Venus  swore  by  her 
chastity  she'd  patronize  the  Swede3,  and  in  semblance  of  a 
blear-eyed  trull,  paraded  the  battlements  of  Fort  Christina, 
accompanied  by  Diana  as  a  serge  nt's  \7idow,  of  cracked  repu- 
tation.— The  noted  bully,  Mars,  stuck  two  horse-pistols  into 
liis  belt,  shouldered  a  rusty  firelock,  and  gallantly  swaggered 
at  their  elbow  as  a  drunken  corpoK  1 — while  Apollo  trudged  in 
their  rear  as  a  bandy-legged  fifer,  playing  most  villainously 
out  of  tune. 

On  the  other  side,  the  ox-eyed  Juno,  who  had  gained  a  pair 
of  black  eyes  overnight,  in  one  of  her  curtain  lectures  with  old 
Jupiter,  displayed  her  haughty  beauties  on  a  baggage-wagon— 
Minerva,  as  a  brawny  gin  sutler,  tucked  up  her  skirts,  bran- 
dished her  fists,  and  swore  most  heroically  in  exceeding  bad 
Dutch,  (having  but  lately  studied  the  language,)  by  way  of 
keeping  up  the  spirits  of  the  soldiers ;  while  Vulcan  halted  as 
a  club-footed  blacksmith,  lately  promoted  to  be  a  captain  of 
mihtia.  Ail  was  silent  horror,  or  busthng  preparation ;  war 
reared  his  horrid  front,  gnashed  loud  his  iron  fangs,  and  shook 
his  direful  crest  of  bristling  bayonets. 

And  now  the  mighty  chieftains  marshalled  out  their  hosts. 
Here  stood  stout  Risingh,  firm  as  a  thousand  rocks— incrusted 
with  stockades  and  entrenched  to  the  chin  in  mud  batteries. 
His  valiant  soldiery  lined  the  breastwork  in  grim  array,  each 
having  his  rnustachios  fiercely  greased,  and  his  hair  poma- 
tumed back  and  queued  so  stiffly  that  he  grinned  above  the 
ramparts  like  a  grizzly  death's  head. 

There  came  on  the  intrepid  Peter — his  brows  knit,  his  teeth 
set,  his  fists  clenched,  almost  breathing  forth  volumes  of 
smoke,  so  fierce  was  the  fire  that  raged  within  his  bosom. 
His  faithful  'squire,  Van  Corlear,  trudged  valiantly  at  his 
heels,  with  his  trumpet  gorgeously  bedecked  with  red  and 
yellow  ribands,  the  remembrances  of  his  fair  mistresses  at  the 
Manhnttoes.  Then  came  waddling  on  the  sturdy  chivalry  of 
the  Hudson.  There  were  the  Van  Wycks,  and  the  Van 
Dycks,  and  the  Ten  Eycks— the  Van  Nesses,  the  Van  Tassels, 
the  Van  Grolls,  the  Van  Hoesens,  the  Van  Giesons,  and  the 
Van  Blarcoms— the  Van  Warts,  the  Van  Winkles,  the  Van 
Dams,  the  Van  Pelts,  the  Van  Rippers,  and  the  Van  Brunts. 
—There  were  the  Van  Homes,  the  Van  Hooks,  the  Van  Bun- 
schotens;  the  Van  Gelders»  the  Van  Arsdales.  and  the  Van 


A  JIISTORY  OF  AE\V-Y01:K. 


24'.] 


Bummcls— the  Vander  Bells,  the  Vander  Hoofs,  the  Vandcr 
Voorts,  the  Vander  Lyns,  the  Vander  Pools,  and  the  Vander 
Spiegels.— There  came  the  Hoffmans,  the  Hooghlands,  the  Hop- 
pers, the  Cloppers,  the  Ryckmans,  the  Dyckmans,  the  Hogc- 
booms,  the  Rosebooms,  the  Oothouts,  the  Quackenbosses,  the 
Roorbacks,  the  GaiTebrantzs,  the  Bensons,  the  Brouwers,  tl:c 
Waldrons,  the  Onderdonks,  the  Varra  Vangers,  the  Schcr 
merhornes,  the  Stoutenburghs,  the  Brinkerhoffs,  the  Bon 
cecous,  the  Knickerbockers,  the  Hocksti-assers,  the  Ten 
Breecheses,  and  the  Tough  Breecheses,  with  a  host  more  of 
wortliies,  w  hose  names  are  too  crabbed  to  be  written,  or  if 
they  could  be  wiitten,  it  would  be  impossible  for  man  to  utter 
—all  fortified  with  a  mighty  dinner,  and  to  use  the  words  of 
a  great  Dutch  poet, 

"  Brimful  of  wrath  and  cabbage!" 

For  an  instant  the  mighty  Peter  paused  in  the  midst  of  his 
career,  and  mounting  on  a  stmnp,  addressed  his  troops  in 
eloquent  Low  Dutch,  exhorting  them  to  fight  like  duyvcls,  and 
assuring  them  that  if  they  conquered,  they  should  get  plenty 
of  booty — if  they  fell,  they  should  be  allowed  the  unparalleled 
satisfaction,  while  dying,  of  reflecting  that  it  was  in  the  ser- 
vice of  their  coimtry — and  after  they  were  dead,  of  seeing: 
their  names  inscribed  in  the  temple  of  renown,  and  handed 
down,  in  company  with  all  the  other  great  men  of  the  ycrr, 
for  the  admiration  of  posterity. — Finally,  he  swore  to  them, 
on  the  word  of  a  governor,  (and  they  knew  him  too  well  to 
doubt  it  for  a  moment)  that  if  he  caught  any  mother's  son  o^ 
them  looking  pale,  or  pla^-ing  craven,  he'd  curry  his  hide  till 
he  made  him  run  out  of  it  like  a  snake  in  spring-time.— Then 
lugging  out  his  trusty  sabre,  he  brandished  it  thi-ee  times  over 
his  head,  ordered  Van  Corlear  to  sound  a  tremendous  charge, 
and  shouting  tlie  words,  "St.  Nicholas  and  the  Manhattoes!" 
courageously  dashed  forwards.  His  warlike  followers,  who 
had  employed  the  interval  in  Lighting  their  pipes,  instantly 
stuck  them  in  their  mouths,  gave  a  furious  puff,  and  charged 
gallantly,  under  cover  of  the  smoke. 

The  Swedish  garrison,  ordered  by  the  cunning  Risingh  not 
to  fire  until  they  could  distinguish  the  whites  of  their  assail- 
ants' eyes,  stood  in  horrid  silence  on  the  covert -way,  until  the 
eager  Dutchmen  had  ascended  the  glacis.  Then  did  they  pour 
into  them  such  a  tremendous  voUey,  that  the  very  hills  quaked 
around,  and  were  t<in'ified  even  unto  an  incontinence  of  water. 


244 


A  IIISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


insomuch  that  certain  springs  burst  forth  from  their  sides, 
which  continue  to  run  imto  the  present  day.  Not  a  Dutchman 
but  would  have  bitten  the  dust,  beneath  that  dreadful  fire, 
had  not  the  protecting  Minerva  kindly  taken  care  that  the 
Swedes  should,  one  and  all,  observe  then*  usual  custom,  of 
shutting  their  eyes  and  turning  away  their  heads,  at  the 
moment  of  discharge. 

The  Swedes  followed  up  their  fire  by  leaping  the  counter- 
scarp, and  falling  tooth  and  nail  upon  the  foe,  with  furious 
outcries.  And  now  might  be  seen  prodigies  of  valour,  of 
which  neither  history  nor  song  has  ever  recorded  a  imrallel. 
Here  was  beheld  the  sturdy  Stofiiel  Brinkerhoff ,  brandishing 
his  lusty  quarter- staff,  like  the  terrible  giant  Bland  eron  his 
oak  tree,  (for  he  scorned  to  carry  any  other  weapon,)  and 
drumming  a  horrific  tune  upon  the  heads  of  whole  squadrons 
of  Swedes.  There  were  the  crafty  Van  Kortlandts,  posted  at 
a  distance,  like  the  Locrian  archers  of  yore,  and  plying  it  most 
potently  with  the  long  bow,  for  which  they  were  so  justly 
renowned.  At  another  place  were  collected  on  a  rising  knoll 
the  valiant  men  of  Smg-Sing,  who  assisted  marvellously  in  the 
fight,  by  chanting  forth  the  great  song  of  St.  Nicholas ;  but  as 
to  the  Gardeniers  of  Hudson,  they  were  absent  from  the 
battle,  having  been  sent  out  on  a  marauding  party,  to  lay 
waste  the  neighbouring  water-melon  patches.  In  a  different 
part  of  the  field  might  be  seen  the  Van  GroUs  of  Antony's 
Nose;  but  they  were  horribly  perplexed  in  a  defile  between 
two  httle  hills,  by  reason  of  the  length  of  their  noses.  There 
were  the  Van  Bunschotens  of  Nyack  and  Kakiat,  so  renowned 
for  kicking  with  the  left  foot,  but  their  skill  availed  them  little 
at  present,  being  short  of  wind  in  consequence  of  the  hearty 
dinner  they  had  eaten,  and  they  would  irretrievably  have  been 
put  to  rout,  had  they  not  been  reinforced  by  a  gallant  corps  of 
Voltigeures,  composed  of  the  Hoppers,  who  advanced  to  their 
assistance  nimbly  on  one  foot.  Nor  must  I  omit  to  mention 
the  incomparable  achievements  of  Antony  Vaii  (^orlear,  who, 
for  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour,  Avaged  stubborn  tight  with  a 
nttle,  i^ursy  Swedish  drunnner,  whose  hide  he  drummed  most 
magnificently ;  and  had  he  not  come  into  the  battle  with  no 
other  weapon  but  his  trumpet,  would  infallibly  have  put  him 
to  an  untimely  end. 

But  now  the  combat  thickened— on  came  the  mighty  Jacobus 
Varra  Vange]',  and  tlie  fighting  men  of  the  Wallabout ;  after 
them  thundered  the  Van  Pelts  of  Esopus,  together  with  the 


A  UISTORY  OF  M^:]v-yonK. 


245 


Van  Bippers  and  the  Van  Brunts,  bearing  down  all  before  them 
—then  the  Suy  Dams  and  the  Van  Dams,  pressing  forward 
with  many  a  blustering  oath,  at  the  head  of  the  warriors  of 
Hell-Gate,  clad  in  their  thunder  and  lightning  gaberdines; 
and  lastly,  the  standard-bearers  and  body-guards  of  Petei 
I    Stuy vesant,  bearing  the  great  beaver  of  the  Manhattoes. 

And  now  commenced  the  horrid  din,  the  desperate  struggle, 
the  maddening  ferocity,  the  frantic  desperation,  the  confusion 
and  self-abandonment  of  war.  Dutchman  and  Swede  com- 
mingled, tugged,  i)anted,  and  blowed.  The  heavens  were  dark- 
ened with  a  tempest  of  missives.  Bang!  went  the  guns— 
whack!  struck  the  broad-swords  -  thump !  went  the  cudgels— > 
crash !  went  the  musket  stocks— blows— kicks— cuffs— scratches 
— black  eyes  and  bloody  noses,  swelling  the  horrors  of  the 
scene!  Thick-thwack,  cut  and  hack,  helter-skelter,  higgledy- 
piggledy,  hurly-burly,  head  over  heels,  rough  and  tumble !  

Dunder  and  blixum !  swore  the  Dutchmen— spHtter  and  splut- 
ter! cried  the  Swedes.— Storm  the  works!  shouted  Hardkop- 
pig  Peter— fire  the  mine!  roared  stout  Risingh— Tanta-ra-ra- 
ra!  twanged  the  trumpet  of  Antony  Van  Corlear— until  all 
voice  and  sound  became  unintelhgible— grunts  of  pain,  yells 
of  fury,  and  shouts  of  triumph  commingling  in  one  hideous 
clamour.  The  earth  shook  as  if  struck  with  a  paralytic  stroke 
—trees  shrunk  aghast,  and  withered  at  the  sight— rocks  bur- 
rowed in  the  ground  hke  rabbits,  and  even  Christina  creek 
turned  from  its  course,  and  ran  up  a  mountain  in  breathless 
terror ! 

Long  hung  the  contest  doubtful ;  for,  though  a  heavy  shower 
of  rain,  sent  by  the  "  cloud-compelling  Jove,"  in  some  measure 
cooled  their  ardour,  as  doth  a  bucket  of  water  thrown  on  a 
group  of  fighting  mastiffs,  yet  did  they  but  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  return  with  tenfold  fury  to  the  charge,  belabouring 
each  other  with  black  and  bloody  bruises.  Just  at  this  junc- 
ture was  seen  a  vast  and  dense  column  of  smoke,  slowly  reli- 
ving towards  the  scene  of  battle,  which  for  a  while  made  even 
the  furious  combatants  to  stay  their  arms  in  mute  astonish- 
ment—but the  wind  for  a  moment  dispersing  the  murky  cloud, 
fi'om  the  midst  thereof  emerged  the  flaunting  banner  of  the 
immortal  Michael  Paw.  This  noble  chieftain  came  fearlessly 
on,  leading  a  sohd  phalanx  of  oyster-fed  Pavonians,  who  had 
remained  behind,  partly  as  a  corps  de  reserve,  and  partly  to 
fi  digest  the  enormous  dinner  they  had  eaten.  These  sturdy 
[    yeomen,  nothing  daunted,  did  trudge  manfully  forward,  smok- 


246 


A  UISTOUY  OF  At'W-YOnjL. 


ing  their  pipes  with  outrageous  vigour,  so  as  to  raise  the  awful 
cloud  that  has  been  mentioned;  but  marching  exceedingly 
slow^,  being  short  of  leg,  and  of  great  rotundity  in  the  belt. 

And  now  the  protecting  deities  of  the  army  of  New- Amster- 
dam, having  unthinkingly  left  the  field  and  stept  into  a  neigh- 
bouring tavern  to  refi-esh  themselves  with  a  pot  of  beer,  a 
direful  catastrophe  had  well-nigh  chanced  to  befall  the  Neder- 
landers.  Scarcely  had  the  myrmidons  of  the  puissant  Paw 
attained  the  front  of  battle,  before  the  Swedes,  instructed  by 
the  cunning  Risingh,  levelled  a  shower  of  blows  full  at  their 
tobacco-pipes.  Astounded  at  this  unexpected  assault,  and 
totally  discomfited  at  seeing  their  pipes  broken,  the  valiant 
Dutchmen  fell  in  vast  confusion— already  they  begin  to  fly — 
like  a  frightened  drove  of  unwieldy  elephants  they  throw 
their  own  army  in  an  uproar,  bearing  down  a  whole  legion  of 
little  Hoppers— the  sacred  banner,  on  which  is  blazoned  the 
gigantic  oyster  of  Communipaw,  is  trampled  in  the  dirt— the 
Swedes  pluck  up  new  spirits,  and  pressing  on  then-  rear,  apply 
theu'  feet  a  parfe  jjoste,  with  a  vigour  that  prodigiously  accel- 
erates their  motions -nor  doth  the  renowned  Paw  himself  fail 
to  receive  divers  grievous  and  dishonourable  visitations  of 
shoe-leather ! 

But  what,  oh  muse?  was  the  rage  of  the  gallant  Peter,  when 
from  afar  he  saw  his  army  yield?  With  a  voice  of  thunder 
did  he  roar  after  his  recreant  warriors.  The  men  of  the  Man- 
hattoes  plucked  up  new  courage  when  they  heard  their  leader 
— or  rather  they  dreaded  his  fierce  displeasure,  of  which  they 
stood  in  more  awe  than  of  all  the  Swedes  in  Christendom— but 
the  darmg  Peter,  not  waitmg  for  their  aid,  plunged,  sword  in 
hand,  into  the  thickest  of  the  foe.  Then  did  he  display  some 
such  incredible  achievements  as  have  never  been  know^i  since 
the  miraculous  days  of  the  giants.  Wherever  he  went,  the 
enemy  shrunk  before  him— with  fierce  impetuosity  he  pushed 
forward,  driving  the  Swedes,  like  dogs,  into  their  own  ditch- 
but  as  he  fearlessly  advanced,  the  foe  thronged  in  his  rear, 
and  hung  upon  his  flanlc  with  fearful  peril.  One  crafty  Swede, 
advancing  warily  on  one  side,  drove  his  dastard  sword  full  at 
the  hero's  heart ;  but  the  protecting  power  that  watches  over 
the  safety  of  all  great  and  good  men,  turned  aside  the  hostile 
blade,  and  directed  it  to  a  side  pocket,  where  reposed  an  enor- 
mous iron  tobacco-box,  endowed,  like  the  shield  of  Achilles, 
with  supernatural  powers— no  doubt  in  consequence  of  its 
being  piously  decorated  with  a  portrait  of  the  blessed  St.  Nich- 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORR. 


247 


olas.  Thus  was  the  dreadful  blow  repelled,  but  not  without  ^ 
occasioning  to  the  great  Peter  a  fearful  loss  of  wind. 

Like  as  a  fuiious  bear,  when  gored  by  curs,  turns  fiercely 
round,  gnashes  his  teeth,  and  springs  upon  the  foe,  so  did  oiu* 
hero  turn  upon  the  treacherous  Swede.  The  miserable  varlet 
sought  in  flight  for  safety— but  the  active  Peter,  seizing  him 
by  an  immeasurable  queue,  that  dangled  from  his  head—"  Ah, 
whoreson  cater])illar !"  roared  he,  "here  is  what  shall  make 
dog's  meat  of  thee!"  So  spvying,  he  whirled  his  trusty  sword, 
and  made  a  blow  that  would  have  decapitated  him,  but  that 
the  pitying  steel  struck  short,  and  shaved  the  queue  for  ever 
from  his  crown.  At  this  very  moment  a  cunning  arquebusier, 
perched  on  the  summit  of  a  neighbouring  mound,  levelled  his 
deadly  instrument,  and  would  have  sent  the  gallant  Stuyve- 
sant  a  wailing  ghost  to  haunt  the  Stygian  shore,  had  not  the 
watchful  Miner^^a,  who  had  just  stopped  to  tie  up  her  garter, 
seen  the  great  peril  of  her  favourite  chief,  and  despatched  old 
Boreas  with  his  l)ellows;  who,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  just  as 
the  match  descended  to  the  pan,  gave  such  a  lucky  blast,  as 
blew  all  the  priming  from  the  touch-hole ! 

Thus  Avaged  the  horrid  fight — when  the  stout  Eisingh,  sur- 
veying the  battle  from  the  top  of  a  little  ravelin,  perceived  his 
faithful  troops  banged,  beaten,  and  kicked  by  the  invincible 
Peter.  Language  cannot  describe  the  choler  with  which  he 
was  seized  at  the  sight — he  only  stopped  for  a  moment  to  dis- 
burthen  himself  of  five  thousand  anathemas ;  and  then,  draw- 
ing his  immeasm-able  falchion,  straddled  down  to  the  field  of 
combat,  with  some  such  thundering  strides  as  Jupiter  is  said 
by  Plesiod  to  has^e  taken  when  he  strode  down  the  spheres,  to 
liurl  his  thunderbolts  at  the  Titans. 

Ko  eooacr  did  these  two  rival  heroes  come  face  to  face,  tlian 
tliey  each  made  a  prodigious  start,  such  as  is  made  by  your 
iiost  expe)*iei3ced  stage  champions.  Then  did  they  regard 
ach  other  for  a  jnoment,  with  bitter  aspect,  like  two  furious 
ram-cats,  on  the  veiy  point  of  a  clapper-clawing.  Then  did 
6hey  throw  them&^elves  in  one  attitude,  then  in  another,  strik- 
ing their  swords  on  the  gi'ound,  first  on  the  right  side,  then  on 
the  left  —  at  last,  at  it  they  went  with  incredible  ferocity. 
Words  cannot  tt  ll  the  prodigies  of  strength  and  valom'  dis- 
played in  this  direful  encounter — an  encounter,  compared  to 
which  the  far-famed  battles  of  Ajax  with  Hector,  of  Eneas 
with  Turnus,  Orlando  with  Eodomont,  Guy  of  Warwick  with 
Oolhrnnd  the  'Dnno  or  that  renoA\Tied  Welsh  knischt.  Sir  O^xf  r 


248 


A  HISTORY  Of  NEW- YORK. 


of  the  Mountains  with  the  giant  Guylon,  -^rere  all  gentle  spoi-ts 
and  holyday  recreations.  At  length  the  valiant  Peter,  watch- 
ing his  opportunity,  aimed  a  fearful  blow  with  the  full  inten- 
tion of  cleaving  his  adveisary  to  the  very  chine ;  but  Risingh, 
nunblj'  raising  his  sword,  warded  it  off  so  narrowly,  that  glanc- 
ing on  one  side,  it  shaved  away  a  huge  canteen  that  he  always 
carried  swung  on  one  side ;  thence  pursuing  its  trenchant  course, 
it  severed  off  a  deep  coat-pocket,  stored  ^vith  bread  and  cheese 
—  all  which  dainties  rolling  among  the  armies,  occasioned  a 
fearful  scraiiibhng  between  the  Swedes  and  Dutchmen,  and 
made  the  general  battle  to  wax  ten  times  more  furious  than 
ever. 

Eni-aged  to  see  his  military  stores  thus  wofully  laid  waste, 
the  stout  Risingh,  collectmg  all  his  forces,  aimed  a  mighty 
blow  full  at  the  hero's  crest.  In  vain  did  his  fierce  little 
cocked  hat  oppose  its  course;  the  biting  steel  clove  thi'ough 
the  stubborn  ram-beaver,  and  would  infalhbly  have  cracked 
his  crown,  but  that  the  skull  was  of  such  adamantine  hard- 
ness, that  the  brittle  weapon  shivered  into  pieces,  shedding  a 
thousand  sparks,  like  beams  of  glory,  round  his  giizzly  visage. 

Stunned  with  the  blow,  the  vahant  Peter  reeled,  turned  up 
Ins  eyes,  and  beheld  fifty  thousand  suns,  besides  moons  and 
stars,  dancing  about  the  firmament — at  length,  missing  his 
footing,  by  reason  of  his  wooden  leg,  down  he  came,  on  his 
seat  of  honour,  with  a  crash  that  shook  the  surrounding  hills, 
and  would  infallibly  have  wrecked  his  anatomical  system,  had 
he  not  been  received  into  a  cushion  softer  than  velvet,  which 
Providence,  or  Minerva,  or  St.  Nicholas,  or  some  kindly  cow, 
had  benevolently  prepared  for  his  reception. 

The  furious  Risingh,  in  despite  of  that  noble  maxim,  cher- 
ished by  all  true  knights,  that  "  fair  play  is  a  jewel,"  hastened 
to  take  advantage  of  the  hero's  fall ;  but  just  as  he  was  stoop- 
ing to  give  the  fatal  blow,  the  ever-vigilant  Peter  bestowed 
him  a  sturdy  thwack  over  the  sconce  with  his  wooden  leg, 
that  set  some  dozen  chimes  of  bells  ringing  triple  bob-majors 
in  his  cerebellum.  The  bewildered  Swede  staggered  with  the 
blow,  and  in  the  meantune  the  wary  Peter,  espying  a  pocket- 
pistol  lying  hard  by,  (which  had  dropped  fi'om  the  wallet  of 
liis  faithfid  'squire  and  trumpeter,  Van  Corlear,  diu-ing  his 
furious  encounter  with  the  drummer,)  discharged  it  full  at  the 
head  of  the  reeling  Risingli. — Let  not  my  reader  mistake —it 
was  not  a  murderous  weapon  loaded  with  powder  and  ball, 
but  a  httle  sturdy  stone  ])ottle,  cliari^ed  to  the  muzzle  with  o 


A  IIISTOUY  OF  NEW -YORE. 


249 


double  dram  of  true  Dutcii  courage,  which  the  knowing  Van 
Corlear  always  carried  about  him  by  way  of  replenishing  his 
valour.  The  hideous  missive  sung  through  the  air,  and  true 
to  its  course,  as  was  the  mighty  fragment  of  a  rock  discharged 
at  Hector  by  bully  Ajax,  encountered  the  huge  head  of  the  gi- 
gantic Swede  with  matchless  violence. 

This  heaven-directed  blow  decided  the  eventful  battle.  Tho 
ponderous  pericranium  of  General  Jan  Risingh  sunk  upon  his 
breast ;  his  knees  tottered  under  him ;  a  deatbiike  torpor  seized 
upon  his  giant  frame,  and  he  tumbled  to  the  earth  with  such 
tremendous  violence,  that  old  Pluto  started  with  affright,  lest 
he  should  have  broken  through  the  roof  of  his  infernal  palace. 

His  fall  was  the  signal  of  defeat  and  victory. — The  Swedes 
gave  way — the  Dutch  pressed  forward ;  the  former  took  to 
their  heels,  the  latter  hotly  pursued— some  entered  with  them, 
pell-mell,  through  the  sally-port  -others  stormed  the  bastion, 
and  others  scrambled  over  the  curtain.  Thus,  in  a  httle  ^vhile, 
the  mipregnable  fortress  of  Fort  Christina,  which  like  another 
Troy  had  stood  a  siege  of  full  ten  hours,  was  finally  carried  by 
assault,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man  on  either  side.  Vic- 
tory, in  the  likeness  of  a  gigantic  ox-fly,  sat  perched  upon  the 
cocked  hat  of  the  gallant  Stuy  vesant ;  and  it  was  universally 
declared,  by  all  the  writers  whom  he  hired  to  write  the  his- 
tory of  his  expedition,  that  on  this  memorable  day  he  gained 
a  sufficient  quantity  of  glory  to  immortalize  a  dozen  of  the 
greatest  heroes  in  Christendom ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  WmOH  THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  READER,  WHILE  REPOSING 
AFTER  THE  BATTLE,  FALL  INTO  A  VERY  GRAVE  DISCOURSE — 
AFTER  WHICH  IS  RECORDED  THE  CONDUCT  OF  PETER  STUYVE- 
SANT  AFTER  HIS  VICTORY. 

Thanks  to  St.  Nicholas,  we  have  safely  finished  this  tremen- 
dous battle ;  let  us  sit  down,  my  worthy  reader,  and  cool  our- 
selves, for  I  am  in  a  prodigious  sweat  and  agitation.— Truly 
this  fighting  of  battles  is  hot  work !  and  if  your  great  com- 
manders did  but  know  w^hat  tiouble  they  give  their  liistorianSj 
they  would  not  have  the  conscience  to  acliieve  so  many  honi' 


250 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK 


ble  victories.  But  methinks  I  hear  my  reader  complain,  that 
throughout  this  boasted  battle,  there  is  not  the  least  slaughter, 
nor  a  single  individual  maimed,  if  we  except  the  unhappy  Swede, 
who  was  shorn  of  his  queue  by  the  trenchant  blade  of  Peter 
Stuy  vesant ;  all  which,  he  observes,  is  a  gi-eat  outrage  on  proba- 
bility, and  highly  injurious  to  the  interest  of  the  narration. 

This  is  certainly  an  objection  of  no  httle  moment;  but  it 
arises  entirely  from  the  obscurity  that  envelopes  the  remote 
periods  of  time,  about  which  I  have  undertaken  to  write. 
Thus,  though,  doubtless,  from  the  importance  of  the  object, 
and  the  prowess  of  the  parties  concerned,  there  must  have 
been  terrible  carnage,  and  prodigies  of  valour  displayed,  before 
the  walls  of  Christina,  yet,  notwithstanding  that  I  have  con- 
sulted every  history,  manuscript,  and  tradition,  touching  this 
memorable,  though  long-forgotten  battle,  I  cannot  find  mention 
made  of  a  single  man  killed  or  wounded  in  the  whole  affah*. 

This  is,  without  doubt,  owing  to  the  extreme  modesty  of  our 
forefathers,  who,  like  theii^  descendants,  were  never  prone  to 
vaunt  of  theu'  achievements ;  but  it  is  a  virtue  that  places  theu^ 
historian  in  a  most  embarrassing  predicament;  for,  having 
l^romised  my  readers  a  hideous  and  unparalleled  battle,  and 
having  worked  them  up  into  a  warhke  and  bloodthu-sty  state 
of  mind,  to  put  them  oif  without  any  havoc  and  slaughter,  was 
as  bitter  a  disappointment  as  to  simimon  a  multitude  of  good  peo- 
ple to  attend  an  execution,  and  then  cruelly  balk  by  a  reprieve. 

Had  the  mexorable  fates  only  allowed  me  some  half  a  score 
of  dead  men,  I  had  been  content ;  for  I  would  have  made  them 
such  heroes  as  abounded  in  the  olden  time,  but  whose  rac-^ 
is  nov/  unfortunately  extinct — any  one  of  whom,  if  we  may 
behove  those  authentic  writers,  the  poets,  could  drive  great 
armies  like  sheep  before  hhn,  and  conquer  and  desolate  whole 
cities  by  his  smgie  arm. 

But  seeing  that  I  had  not  a  single  hfe  at  my  disposal,  all  thai, 
was  left  me  was  to  make  the  most  I  could  of  my  battle,  by 
means  of  kicks,  and  cuffs,  and  bruises,  and  such  like  ignoble 
wounds.  And  here  I  cannot  but  compare  mj  dilemma,  in 
some  sort,  to  that  of  the  divine  Milton,  who,  havmg  arrayed 
with  sublime  preparation  his  immortal  hosts  against  each 
other,  is  sadly  put  to  it  how  to  manage  them,  and  how  he  shall 
make  the  end  of  his  battle  answer  to  the  beginning ;  inasmuch 
as,  being  mere  spirits,  he  cannot  deal  a  mortal  blow,  nor  even 
give  a  flesh  wound  to  any  of  his  combatants.  For  my  part, 
the  gi-eatest  difficulty  I  found,  was,  when  I  iiad  once  put  my 


A  JIISTOIIY  01<'  Is' KW- YORK. 


251 


warj  iors  in  a  passion,  and  let  them  loose  into  the  midst  of  the 
encsny,  to  keep  them  from  doing  mischief.  Many  a  time  had 
I  to  restrain  the  stm^dy  Peter  from  cleaving  a  gigantic  Swede 
to  the  very  waistband,  or  spitting  half-a-dozen  Uttle  fellows  on 
his  sword,  like  so  many  sparrows ;  and  when  I  had  set  some 
hundreds  of  missives  flying  in  the  air,  I  did  not  dare  to  suffei 
one  of  them  to  reach  the  ground,  lest  it  should  have  put  an 
end  to  some  unlucky  Dutchman. 

The  reader  cannot  conceive  how  mortifying  it  is  to  a  writer, 
thus  in  a  manner  to  have  his  hands  tied,  and  how  m.any 
tempting  opportunities  I  had  to  wink  at,  where  I  might  have 
made  as  fine  a  death-blow  as  any  recorded  in  history  or  song. 

From  my  own  experience,  I  begin  to  doubt  most  potently  of 
the  authenticity  of  many  of  Homer's  stories.  I  verily  believe, 
that  when  he  had  once  lanched  one  of  his  favourite  heroes 
among  a  crowed  of  the  enemy,  he  cut  down  many  an  honest 
fellow,  without  any  authority  for  so  doing,  excepting  that  he 
presented  a  fair  mark— and  that  often  a  poor  devil  was  sent  to 
grim  Pluto's  domains,  merely  because  he  had  a  name  that 
would  give  a  sounding  turn  to  a  period.  But  I  disclaim  all 
such  unprincipled  liberties — let  me  but  have  truth  and  the  law 
on  my  side,  and  no  man  would  fight  harder  than  myself :  but 
since  the  various  records  I  consulted  did  not  warrpnt  it,  1  had 
too  much  conscience  to  kill  a  single  soldier.  By  St.  Nicholas, 
but  it  would  have  been  a  pretty  piece  of  business !  ^ly  ene- 
mies, the  critics,  who  I  foresee  will  be  ready  enough  to  lay 
any  crime  they  can  discover  at  my  door,  might  Imve  charged 
m.e  with  murder  outright— and  I  should  have  esteemed  myself 
lucky  to  escape  with  no  harsher  verdict  than  manslaughter ! 

And  now,  gentle  reader,  that  we  are  tranquilly  sitting  down 
here,  smoking  our  pipes,  permit  me  to  indulge  in  a  melancholy 
reflection,  which  at  this  moment  passes  across  my  mind. — 
How  vain,  how  fleeting,  how  uncertain  are  all  those  gaudy 
bubbles  after  which  we  are  panting  and  toiling  in  this  world 
of  fair  delusion!  The  wealth  which  the  miser  has  amassed 
with  so  many  weary  days,  so  many  sleepless  nights,  a  spend- 
thrift heir  may  squander  away  in  joyless  prodigahty.  The 
noblest  monuments  which  pride  has  ever  reared  to  perpetuate 
a  name,  the  hand  of  time  wfll  shortly  tumble  into  ruins — and 
even  the  brightest  laurels,  gained  by  feats  of  arms,  may 
wither  and  be  for  ever  blighted  by  the  chilling  neglect  of  man- 
kind.— "How  many  illustrious  heroes,"  says  the  good  Boetius, 

who  were  once  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  age,  hath  the 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


silence  of  historians  buried  in  eternal  oblivion !"  And  cbis  it 
was  that  induced  the  Spartans,  when  they  went  to  battle, 
solemnly  to  sacrifice  to  the  muses,  supplicating  that  their 
achievements  should  be  worthily  recorded.  Had  not  Homer 
tuned  his  lofty  lyre,  observes  the  elegant  Cicero,  the  valour  of 
Achilles  had  remained  unsung.  And  such,  too,  after  all  the 
toils  and  perils  he  had  braved,  after  all  the  gallant  actions 
he  had  achieved,  such  too  had  nearly  been  the  fate  of  the 
chivalric  Peter  Stuyvesant,  but  that  I  fortunately  stepped  in 
and  engraved  his  name  on  the  indchble  tablet  of  history,  just 
as  the  caitiff  Time  was  silently  brushing  it  away  for  ever. 

The  more  I  reflect,  the  more  am  I  astonished  at  the  impor- 
tant character  of  the  historian.  He  is  the  sovereign  censor,  to 
decide  upon  the  renown  or  infamy  of  his  fellow-men — he  is  the 
patron  of  kings  and  conquerors,  on  whom  it  depends  whether 
they  shall  live  in  after  ages,  or  be  forgotten,  as  were  their 
ancestors  before  them.  The  tyrant  may  oppress  while  the 
object  of  his  tyranny  exists,  but  the  historian  possesses  supe- 
rior might,  for  his  power  extends  even  beyond  the  grave.  The 
shades  of  departed  and  long-forgotten  heroes  anxiously  bend 
down  from  above,  while  he  writes,  watching  each  movement 
of  his  pen,  whether  it  shall  pass  by  their  names  with  neglect, 
or  inscribe  them  on  the  deathless  pages  of  renown.  Even  the 
drop  of  ink  that  hangs  trembling  on  his  pen,  which  he  may 
either  dash  upon  the  floor  or  waste  in  idle  scrawlings — that 
very  drop,  wliich  to  him  is  not  worth  the  twentieth  part  of 
a  farthing,  may  be  of  incalculable  value  to  some  departed 
worthy — may  elevate  half  a  score,  in  one  moment,  to  immor- 
tality, who  would  have  given  worlds,  had  they  possessed 
them,  to  insure  the  glorious  meed. 

Let  not  my  readers  imagine,  however,  that  I  am  indulging 
in  vain-glorious  boastings,  or  am  anxious  to  blazon  forth  the 
importance  of  my  tribe.  On  the  contrary,  I  shrink  when  I 
reflect  on  the  awful  responsibility  wo  historians  assume— I 
shudder  to  think  what  direful  commotions  and  calamities  we 
occasion  in  the  world— I  swear  to  thee,  honest  reader,  as  I  am 
a  man,  I  weep  at  the  very  idea!  Why,  let  me  ask,  are  so 
many  illustrious  men  daily  tearing  themselves  awav  from  the 
embraces  of  their  families— slighting  the  smiles  of  beauty- 
despising  the  allurements  of  fortune,  and  exposing  themselves 
to  the  miseries  of  war?— Why  are  kings  desolating  empires, 
and  depopulating  whole  countries?  In  short,  what  induces  all 
great  men,  of  aU  ages  and  countries,  to  commit  so  many 


A  JllSTORY  OF  jyEW-YOEK 


2,53 


victories  and  misdeeds,  and  inflict  so  many  miseries  upon 
mankind  and  on  themselves,  but  the  mere  hope  that  some  his- 
torian will  kindly  take  them  into  notice,  and  admit  them  into 
a  corner  of  his  volume.  For,  in  short,  the  mighty  object  of 
all  their  toils,  their  hardships,  and  privations,  is  nothing  but 
immortal  fame — and  what  is  immortal  fame? — why,  half  a  page 
of  dirty  paper ! — Alas !  pJas !  how  humiliating  the  idea — that  the 
renown  of  so  gi'eat  a  man  as  Peter  Stuyvesant  should  depend 
upon  the  pen  of  so  little  a  man  as  Diedrich  Knickerbocker ! 

And  nov/,  having  refreshed  ourselves  after  the  fatigues  and 
perils  of  the  field,  it  behoves  us  to  return  once  more  to  the 
scene  of  conflict,  and  inquire  what  were  the  results  of  this 
renowned  conquest.  The  fortress  of  Christina  being  the  fair 
metropolis,  and  in  a  manner  the  key  to  New-Sweden,  its  cap- 
ture was  speedily  followed  by  the  entire  subjugation  of  the 
province.  This  was  not  a  little  promoted  by  the  gallant  and 
courteous  deportment  of  the  chivalric  Peter.  Though  a  man 
terrible  in  battle,  yet  in  the  hour  of  victory  was  he  endued 
with  a  spirit  generous,  merciful,  and  humane — he  vaunted  not 
over  his  enemies,  nor  did  he  make  defeat  more  galling  by  un- 
manly insults;  for  like  that  mirror  of  knightly  virtue,  the 
renowned  Paladin  Orlando,  he  was  more  anxious  to  do  great 
actions  than  to  talk  of  them  after  they  Avere  done.  He  put  no 
man  to  death ;  ordered  no  houses  to  be  burnt  down ;  permitted 
no  ravages  to  be  perpetrated  on  the  property  of  the  van- 
quished, and  even  gave  one  of  his  bravest  officers  a  severe 
admonishment  witli  his  walking-stalf ,  for  having  been  detected 
in  the  act  of  sacking  a  hen-roost. 

He  moreover  issued  a  proclamation,  inviting  the  inliabitants 
to  submit  to  the  authority  of  their  High  Mightinesses;  but 
declaring,  with  unexami)led  clemency,  that  v^^hoever  refused 
should  be  lodged,  at  the  public  expense,  in  a  goodly  castle  pro- 
vided for  the  purpose,  and  have  an  armed  retinue  to  wait 
on  them  in  the  bargain.  In  consequence  of  these  beneficent 
terms,  about  tliirty  Swedes  stepped  manfully  forAvard  and 
took  the  oath  of  allegiance ;  in  reward  for  which,  they  were 
gi^aciously  permitted  to  remain  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware, 
where  their  descendants  reside  at  this  very  day.  But  I  am 
told  by  divers  observant  travellers,  that  they  have  never  been 
able  to  get  over  the  cliapfallen  looks  of  their  ancestors,  and 
do  still  unaccounta,bly  transmit  from  father  to  son  manifest 
marks  of  the  sound  drubbing  given  them  by  the  sturdy  Am- 
;  tordammers. 


254 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW-YORK 


The  whole  country  of  New-Sweden,  having  thus  yielded  to 
the  arms  of  the  triumphant  Peter,  was  reduced  to  a  colony, 
called  South  River,  and  placed  under  the  superintendence  of 
a  heutenant-governor ;  subject  to  the  control  of  the  supreme 
government  at  New-Amsterdam.  Tliis  great  dignitary  was 
called  Mynheer  Wilham  Beekman,  or  rather  ^ecfcman,  who 
derived  his  surname,  as  did  Ovidius  Naso  of  yore,  from  the 
lordly  dimensions  of  his  nose,  which  projected  from  the  centre 
of  his  countenance  like  the  beak  of  a  parrot.  He  was  the  great 
progenitor  of  the  tribe  of  the  Beekmans,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  and  honom-able  famihes  of  the  i)rovince,  the  members 
of  which  do  gratefully  coimnemorate  the  origin  of  their 
dignity,  not  as  your  noble  families  in  England  would  do,  by 
having  a  glowing  proboscis  emblazoned  in  their  escutcheon, 
but  by  one  and  all  wearing  a  right  goodly  nose  stuck  in  the 
very  middle  of  their  faces. 

Thus  was  this  j)erilous  enterprise  gloriously  terminated  with 
the  loss  of  only  two  men— Wolf ert  Y an  Horne,  a  tall,  spare 
man,  who  was  knocked  overboard  by  the  boom  of  a  sloop,  in  a 
flaw  of  wind ;  and  fat  Brom  Van  Bmumel,  who  was  suddenly 
carried  off  by  an  indigestion ;  both,  however,  were  immortalized 
as  having  bravely  fallen  in  the  service  of  their  country.  True 
it  is,  Peter  Stuyvesant  had  one  of  his  limbs  terribly  frac- 
tured, being  shattered  to  pieces  in  the  act  of  storming  the 
fortress ;  but  as  it  was  fortunately  his  wooden  leg,  the  wound 
was  promptly  and  effectually  healed. 

And  now  nothing  remains  to  this  branch  of  my  history,  but 
to  mention  that  this  immaculate  hero,  and  his  victorious  army, 
returned  joyously  to  the  Ma,nhattoes,  where  they  made  a  sol- 
emn and  triumphant  entry,  bearing  with  them  the  conquered 
Risingh,  and  the  renuiant  of  his  battered  crew,  who  had 
refused  allegiance ;  for  it  appeai-s  that  the  gigantic  Swede  had 
only  fallen  into  a  swoon  at  the  end  of  the  battle,  from  whence 
he  was  speedily  restored  by  a  wholesome  tweak  of  the  nose. 

These  captive  heroes  were  lodged,  according  to  the  promise 
of  the  governor,  at  the  pubhc  expense,  in  a  fair  and  spacious 
castle ;  being  the  prison  of  state,  of  which  Stoff el  Brinkerhoif , 
the  immortal  conqueror  of  Oyster  Bay,  was  appointed  gover- 
nor ;  and  which  has  ever  since  remained  in  the  possession  of 
his  descendants.* 


*  This  castle,  though  very  much  altered  ana  modernized,  is  still  in  being,  and 
standss  at  the  corner  of  Pearl-street,  facing  Coenties'  slip. 


A  UlSTOUY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


255 


It  was  a  pleasant  and  goodly  sight  to  witness  the  joy  of  the 
people  of  New- Amsterdam,  at  beholding  their  warriors  once 
more  return  from  this  war  in  the  wilderness.  The  old  women 
thronged  round  Antony  Van  Corlear,  who  gave  the  whole 
history  of  the  campaign  with  matchless  accuracy :  saving  that 
he  took  the  credit  of  fighting  the  whole  battle  himself,  and 
especially  of  vanquishing  the  stout  Risingh,  which  he  consid- 
ered himself  as  clearly  entitled  to,  seeing  that  it  was  effected 
by  his  own  stone  pottle. 

The  schoolmasters  throughout  the  town  gave  holyday  to 
their  little  urchins,  who  followed  in  droves  after  the  drums, 
with  pa,per  caps  on  their  heads,  and  sticks  in  their  breeches, 
thus  taking  the  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  war.  As  to  the  sturdy 
rabble,  they  thronged  at  the  heels  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  wher- 
ever he  went,  waving  their  greasj''  hats  in  the  air,  and  shout- 
mg  "  Hard-koppig  Piet  for  ever!" 

It  was,  indeed,  a  day  of  roaring  rout  and  jubilee.  A  huge 
dinner  was  prepared  at  the  Stadt-house  in  honour  of  the  con- 
querors, where  were  assembled,  in  one  glorious  constellation, 
the  gTcat  and  the  little  luminaries  of  New- Amsterdam.  There 
were  the  lordly  Schout  and  his  obsequious  deputy — the  burgo- 
masters with  their  officious  schepens  at  their  elbows— the  sub- 
altern officers  at  the  elbows  of  the  schepens,  and  so  on  to  the 
lowest  hanger-on  of  pohce ;  every  Tag  having  his  Rag  at  his 
side,  to  finish  his  pipe,  drink  off  his  heel-taps,  and  laugh  at  his 
flights  of  immortal  dulness.  In  short — for  a  city  feast  is  a 
city  feast  all  the  world  over,  and  has  been  a  city  feast  ever 
since  the  creation — the  dinner  went  off  much  the  same  as  do 
our  great  corporation  junketings  and  fourth  of  July  banquets. 
Loads  of  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl  were  devoured,  oceans  of  hquor 
drunk,  thousands  of  pipes  smoked,  and  many  a  dull  joke  hon- 
oured with  much  obstreperous  fat-sided  laughter. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention,  that  to  this  far-famed  victory 
Peter  Stuyvesant  was  indebted  for  another  of  his  many  titles 
— for  so  hugely  deli2:hted  were  the  honest  burghers  with  his 
achievements,  that  they  unanimously  honoured  him  ^vith  the 
name  of  Pietrc  de  Groodt^  that  is  to  say,  Peter  the  Great,  or,  as  it 
was  translated  by  the  people  of  New- Amsterdam,  Piet  de  Pig 
—an  appellation  which  he  maintained  even  unto  the  day  of  his 
death. 


266 


A  UllSTOUY  OF  NEW-YOliK. 


BOOK  VII. 

CONTAINING  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  THE  FEIGN  OF 
PETER  THE  HEAD  STRONG— HIS  TROUBLES  WITH 
THE  BRITISH  NATION,  AND  THE  DECLINE  AND 
FALL  OF  THE  DUTCH  DYNASTY. 


CHAPTER  1. 

HOW  PETER  STUYVESANT  RELIEVED  THE  SOVEREIGN  PEOPLE 
FROM  THE  BURTHEN  OF  TAiaNG  CARE  OF  THE  NATION — WITH 
SUNDRY  PARTICULARS  OF  HIS  CONDUCT  IN  TIME  OF  PEACE. 

The  history  of  the  reign  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  furnishes  a 
melancholy  picture  of  the  incessant  cares  and  vexations  iosep- 
arable  from  government ;  and  may  serve  as  a  solenm  warning 
to  all  who  are  ambitious  of  attaining  the  seat  of  power. 
Though  crowned  with  victory,  enriched  by  conquest,  and  re- 
turning in  triumph  to  his  metropohs,  his  exultation  was 
checked  by  beholding  the  sad  abuses  that  had  taken  place  dur- 
ing the  short  interval  of  his  absence. 

The  populace,  unfortunately  for  their  own  comfort,  had 
taken  a  deej)  draught  of  the  intoxicating  cup  of  power,  during 
the  reign  of  William  the  Testy ;  and  though,  upon  the  accession 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  they  felt,  with  a  certain  instinctive  per- 
ception, which  mobs  as  well  as  cattle  possess,  that  the  reins  of 
government  had  passed  into  stronger  hands,  yet  could  they  not 
help  fretting  and  chafing  and  champing  upon  the  bit  in  restive 
silence. 

It  seems,  by  some  strange  and  inscrutable  fatahty,  to  be  the 
destiny  of  most  countries,  (and  more  especially  of  your  enlight- 
ened republics)  always  to  be  governed  by  the  most  incompetent 
man  in  the  nation— so  that  you  will  scarcely  find  an  individual, 
throughout  the  whole  community,  who  cannot  point  out  in- 
nmnerable  errors  in  administration,  and  convince  you,  m  the 


A  HIS  TOUT  OF  NEW- YOUR. 


257 


Slid,  that  had  he  been  at  the  head  of  affairs,  matters  would 
have  gone  on  a  thousand  times  more  prosperously.  Strange ! 
that  government,  which  seems  to  be  so  generally  understood, 
should  invariably  be  so  erroneously  administered — strange, 
that  the  talent  of  legislation,  so  prodigally  bestowed,  should  bo 
denied  to  the  only  man  in  the  nation  to  whose  station  it  is 
requisite ! 

Thus  it  was  in  the  present  instance ;  not  a  man  of  ail  the 
herd  of  pseudo  pohticians  in  New-Amsterdam,  but  was  an 
oracle  on  topics  oi"  state,  and  could  have  directi-:d  public  affairs 
incomparably  better  than  Peter  ^Stuyvesant.  But  so  severe 
was  the  old  governor,  in  his  disposition,  that  he  would  never 
suffer  one  of  the  multitude  of  able  counsellors  by  whom  he 
was  surrounded,  to  intrude  his  advice,  and  save  the  country 
from  destruction. 

Scarcel}",  therefore,  had  he  departed  on  his  expedition  against 
the  Swedes,  than  the  old  factions  of  William  Kieft's  reign  be- 
gan to  thrust  their  heads  above  water,  and  to  gather  together 
in  political  meetings,  to  discuss  "  the  state  of  tJie  nation."  At 
these  assemblages,  the  busy  burgomasters  and  their  officious 
schepens  made  a  very  considerable  figure.  These  worthy  dig- 
nitaries were  no  longer  the  fat,  well-fed,  tranquil  magistrates 
that  presided  in  the  peaceful  days  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller — on 
the  contrary,  being  elected  by  the  people,  they  formed  in  a 
manner  a  sturdy  bulwark  between  the  mob  and  the  adminis- 
tration. They  were  great  candidates  for  popularity,  and 
strenuous  advocates  for  the  rights  of  the  rabDle ;  resembhng  in 
disinterested,  zeal  the  wide-mouthed  tribunes  of  ancient  Rome, 
or  those  virtuous  patriots  of  modern  days,  emphatically  de- 
nominated "  the  friends  of  the  people." 

Under  the  tuition  of  these  profound  politicians,  it  is  astonish- 
ing how  suddenly  enlightened  the  swinish  multitude  became, 
in  matters  above  their  comprehensions.  Cobblers,  tinkers, 
and  tailors,  all  at  once  felt  themselves  inspired,  like  those 
rehgious  idiots,  in  the  glorious  times  of  monkish  illumination ; 
and,  without  any  i^revious  study  or  experience,  became  in- 
stantly capable  of  directing  all  the  movements  of  government. 
ISIor  must  I  neglect  to  mention  a  number  of  superannuated, 
wrong-headed  old  burghers,  Avho  had  come  over,  when  boys, 
in  the  crew  of  the  Goede  Vrouiv,  and  were  held  up  as  infalhble 
oracles  by  the  enhghtened  mob.  To  suppose  that  a  man  who 
bad  helped  to  discover  a  country,  did  not  know  how  it  ought 
to  be  governed,  was  preposterous  in  the  extreme.    It  ^vould 


258 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


have  been  deemed  as  much  a  heresy,  as  at  the  present  day  to 
question  the  poHtical  talents  and  imiversal  infalhbility  of  oui- 
old  heroes  of  '76  "—and  to  doubt  that  he  Avho  had  fought  for 
a  government,  however  stupid  he  might  naturally  be,  was  not 
competent  to  fill  any  station  under  it. 

But  as  Peter  Stuy  vesant  had  a  singular  inclination  to  govern 
his  province  without  the  assistance  of  his  subjects,  he  felt 
highly  mcensed  on  his  return  to  find  the  factious  appearance 
i\\ey  had  assumed  during  his  absence.  BLLs  first  measure, 
therefore,  was  to  restore  perfect  order,  by  prostrating  the 
dignity  of  the  sovereign  people. 

He  accordingly  watched  his  opportunity,  and  one  evening, 
when  the  enlightened  mob  was  gathered  together,  hstening  to 
a  patriotic  speech  from  an  inspired  cobbler,  the  intrepid  Peter 
all  at  once  appeared  a.mong  them,  with  a  countenance  suffi- 
cient to  petrify  a  mill-stone.  The  whole  meeting  was  thi^own 
into  consternation — the  orator  seemed  to  have  received  a 
paralytic  stroke  in  the  very  middle  of  a  subhme  sentence,  and 
stood  aghast  Avdth  open  mouth  and  trembling  knees,  while  the 
words  horror!  tyranny!  hberty !  rights'  taxes!  death!  destruc- 
tion! and  a  deluge  of  other  patriotic  phrases,  came  roaring 
from  his  throat,  before  he  had  power  to  close  his  lips.  The 
shrewd  Peter  took  no  notice  of  the  skulking  throng  around 
him,  but  advancing  to  the  brawhng  bully-ruffian,  and  drawing- 
out  a  huge  silver  watch  which  might  have  served  in  times  ot 
yore  as  a  town  clock,  and  which  is  still  retained  by  his  de- 
scendants as  a  family  curiosity,  requested  the  orator  to  mend 
it,  and  set  it  gohig.  The  orator  hmnbly  confessed  it  was 
utterly  out  of  his  power,  as  he  was  unacquainted  with  the 
nature  of  its  construction.  "Nay,  but,"  said  Peter,  "try  your 
ingenuity,  man ;  you  see  all  the  springs  and  wheels,  and  how 
easily  the  clumsiest  hand  may  stop  it,  and  pull  it  to  pieces ; 
and  why  should  it  not  be  equally  easy  to  regulate  as  to  stop 
it  ?  The  orator  declared  that  his  trade  was  wholly  different— 
that  he  was  a  poor  cobbler,  and  had  never  meddled  with  a 
watch  in  his  life— that  there  were  men  skilled  in  the  art,  whose 
business  it  was  to  attend  to  those  matters,  but  for  his  part,  he 
should  only  mar  the  workmanship,  and  put  the  whole  in  con- 
fusion.—"  Wliy,  harkee,  master  of  mine,"  cried  Peter,  turn- 
ing suddenly  upon  him,  with  a  countenance  that  almost  petri- 
fied the  patcher  of  shoes  into  a  perfect  lap-stone — "dost  thou 
pretend  to  meddle  with  the  movements  of  government — to  rcfr^i  • 
late,  and  correct,  and  patch,  and  cobble  a  complicated  machine, 


A  IIISTORT  OF  NEW- TORE. 


209 


the  principles  of  which  are  above  thy  comprehension,  and  its 
simplest  operations  too  subtle  for  thy  understanding;  when 
thou  canst  not  correct  a  trifling  error  in  a  common  piece  of 
meelianism,  the  whole  mystery  of  which  is  open  to  thy  in- 
,>^pcctioni— Hence  with  thee  to  the  leather  and  stone,  which  are 
emblems  of  thy  head ;  cobble  thy  shoes,  and  confine  thyself 
to  the  vocation  for  which  Heaven  has  fitted  thee. — But," 
elevating  his  voice  until  it  made  the  welkin  ring,  "if  ever  I 
catch  thee,  or  any  of  thy  tribe,  meddhng  again  with  affairs  of 
government,  by  St.  Nicholas,  but  I'll  have  every  mother's 
bastard  of  ye  flay'd  alive,  and  your  hides  stretched  for  drum- 
heads, that  ye  may  thenceforth  make  a  noise  to  some  purpose !" 

This  threat,  and  the  tremendous  voice  in  which  it  was  ut- 
tered, caused  the  whole  multitude  to  quake  with  fear.  The 
hair  of  the  orator  arose  on  his  head  like  his  own  swine's 
bristles,  and  not  a  knight  of  the  thimble  present  but  his  heart 
died  within  him,  and  he  felt  as  though  he  could  have  verily 
escaped  through  the  eye  of  a  needle. 

But  though  this  measure  produced  the  desired  effect  in  re- 
ducing the  community  to  order,  yet  it  tended  to  injure  the 
popidarity  of  the  great  Peter  among  the  enlightened  vulgar. 
Many  accused  him  of  entertaining  highly  aristocratic  senti- 
ments, and  of  leaning  too  much  in  favour  of  the  patricians. 
Tndeed,  there  appeared  to  be  some  ground  for  such  an  accusa- 
tion, as  he  always  carried  himself  with  a  very  lofty,  soldier- 
Hke  port,  and  was  somewhat  particular  in  his  dress ;  dressing 
himseff,  when  not  in  uniform,  in  simple,  but  rich  apparel,  and 
vv^as  especially  noted  for  having  his  sound  leg  (which  was  a 
very  comely  one)  always  arrayed  in  a  red  stocking,  and  liigh- 
heelcd  shoe.  Though  a  man  of  great  simplicity  of  manners, 
yet  there  was  something  about  him  that  repelled  rude  famih- 
arity,  while  it  encouraged  frank,  and  even  social  intercourse. 

He  likewise  observed  some  appearance  of  court  ceremony 
and  etiquette.  He  received  the  common  class  of  visitors  on 
the  stoop^  before  his  door  according  to  the  custom  of  our 
Dutch  ancestors.  But  when  visitors  were  formally  received 
in  his  parlour,  it  was  expected  they  would  appear  in  clean 
linen ;  by  no  means  to  be  bare-footed,  and  always  to  take  their 
hats  off.  On  public  occasions,  he  appeared  with  great  pomp  of 
equipage,  (for,  in  truth,  his  station  required  a  little  show  and 


*  Properly  spelled  stoeh—fhQ  porch  commonly  built  in  front  of  Dutfh  houses, 
with  benches  on  each  side. 


200 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK, 


dignity)  and  always  rode  to  church  in  a  yellow  wagon  with 
flaming  red  wheels. 

These  symptoms  of  state  and  ceremony  occasioned  consider- 
able discontent  among  the  vidgar.  They  had  been  accustomed 
to  find  easy  access  to  their  former  governors,  and  in  particular 
had  lived  on  terms  of  extreme  familiarity  with  William  the 
Testy.  They  therefore  were  very  impatient  of  these  dignified 
precautions,  which  discouraged  intrusion.  But  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant  had  his  o^vn  way  of  thinking  in  these  matters,  and  was  a 
staunch  upholder  of  the  dignity  of  ofiice. 

He  always  maintamed  that  govermnent  to  be  the  least  popu- 
lar which  is  most  open  to  popular  access  and  control ;  and  that 
the  very  brawlers  against  court  ceremony,  and  the  reserve  of 
men  in  power,  would  soon  despise  mlers  among,  whom  they 
found  even  themselves  to  be  of  consequence.  Such,  at  least, 
had  been  the  case  with  the  administration  of  William  the 
Testy ;  ^vho,  bent  on  making  himself  popular,  had  listened  to 
every  man's  advice,  suffered  everj'body  to  have  admittance  to 
his  person  at  all  hours,  and,  in  a  word,  treated  every  one  as  his 
thorough  equal.  By  this  means,  every  scrub  politician,  and 
public  busy-body,  w^as  enabled  to  measure  wits  with  him,  and 
to  find  out  the  true  dimensions,  not  only  of  his  person,  but  his 
mind. — And  what  great  man  can  stand  such  scrutiny? — It  is 
the  mystery  that  envelopes  great  men  that  gives  thsm  half 
their  greatness.  We  are  always  inclined  to  think  highly  of 
those  who  hold  themselves  aloof  from  our  examination.  There 
is  likewise  a  kind  of  superstitious  reverence  for  ofiice,  which 
leads  us  to  exaggerate  the  merits  and  abilities  of  men  in  power, 
and  to  suppose  that  they  must  be  constituted  different  from 
other  men.  And,  indeed,  faith  is  as  necessary  in  politics  as  in 
religion.  It  certainly  is  of  the  first  importance,  that  a  country 
should  be  governed  by  wise  men ;  but  then  it  is  almost  equally 
imT)ortant,  that  the  people  should  believe  them  to  be  "svise ;  for 
this  belief  alone  can  produce  willing  subordination. 

To  keep  up,  therefore,  this  desirable  confidence  in  rulers,  the 
people  should  be  allowed  to  see  as  little  of  them  as  possible. 
He  who  gains  access  to  cabinets  soon  finds  out  by  what  foolish- 
ness the  world  is  governed.  He  discovers  that  there  is  quack- 
ery in  legislation,  as  well  as  in  every  thing  else ;  that  many  a 
measure,  which  is  supposed  by  the  miliion  to  be  the  result  of 
great  wisdom,  and  deep  dehberation,  is  the  effect  of  mere 
chance,  or,  perhaps,  of  harebrained  experiment — that  rulers 
have  their  whims  and  errors  as  well  as  other  men,  and  after 


A  HISTORY  OF  Is  EM-YORK. 


all  arc  not  so  wonderfully  superior  to  their  fellow-creatures  as 
he  at  first  imagined ;  since  he  finds  that  even  his  own  opinions 
have  had  some  weight  with  them.  Thus  awe  sul^sidcs  into 
confidence,  confidence  inspires  familiarity,  and  familiarity 
produces  contempt.  Peter  Stiiyvesant,  on  the  contrary,  by 
conducting  himself  with  dignity  and  loftiness,  was  looked  up 
to  with  great  reverence.  As  lie  never  gave  his  reasons  for  any 
thing  he  did,  the  public  always  gave  him  credit  for  very  pro- 
found ones — every  movement,  however  intrinsically  unimpor- 
tant, was  a  matter  of  speculation,  and  his  very  red  stockings 
excited  some  respect,  as  being  different  from  the  stockings  of 
other  men. 

To  these  times  may  we  refer  the  rise  of  family  pride  and 
aristocratic  distinctions  ;*  and  indeed,  I  cannot  but  look  back 
with  reverence  to  the  early  planting  of  those  mighty  Dutch 
families,  which  have  taken  such  vigorous  root,  and  branched 
out  so  luxuriantly  in  our  state.  The  blood  which  has  flowed 
down  uncontaminated  through  a  succession  of  steady,  virtuous 
generations  since  the  times  of  the  patriarchs  of  Communipaw, 
must  certainly  be  pure  and  worthy.  And  if  so,  then  are  the 
Van  Eensselaers,  the  Van  Zandts,  the  Van  Homes,  the  Rut- 
gers, the  Bensons,  the  Brinkerhoffs,  the  Schermerhornes,  and 
all  the  true  descendants  of  the  ancient  Pavonians,  the  only 
legitimate  nobility  and  real  lords  of  the  soil. 

I  have  been  led  to  mention  thus  particularly  the  well- 
authenticated  claims  of  our  genuine  Dutch  families,  because  I 
have  noticed,  with  great  sorrow  and  vexation,  that  they  have 
been  somewhat  elbowed  aside  in  latter  days  by  foreign  intrud- 
ers. It  is  really  astonishing  to  behold  how  many  great  fami- 
lies have  sprung  up  of  late  years,  who  pride  themselves  exces- 
sively on  the  score  of  ancestry.  Thus  he  who  can  look  up  to 
his  father  without  humiliation  assumes  not  a  littJe  importance 
—he  who  can  safely  talk  of  his  grandfather,  is  still  more  vain- 
glorious— but  he  who  can  look  back  to  his  great-grandfather 
without  blushing,  is  absolutely  intolerable  in  his  x^re tensions  to 
f airdly — ^bless  us !  what  a  piece  of  work  is  here,  between  these 
mushrooms  of  an  hour,  and  these  mushrooms  of  a  day ! 

But  from  what  I  have  recounted  in  the  former  part  of  this 


*  In  a  work  published  many  years  after  the  time  here  treated  of  (in  1701,  by  C. 
W.  A.  M.\  it  is  mentioned  that  Frederick  Philipse  was  connted  the  richest  Mynheer 
in  New-York,  and  was  said  to  have  xi^iole  hogsheads  of  Indian  vioney  or  wampum; 
and  had  a  son  and  daughter,  who,  according  to  the  Dutch  custom,  should  divide  it 
equally. 


262 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


chapter,  I  would  not  have  my  reader  imagine  that  the  gi-eat 
Peter  was  a  tyrannical  governor,  ruling  his  subjects  with  a  i  od  of 
iron — on  the  contrary,  where  the  dignity  of  authority  was  not 
implicated,  he  abounded  wit\\  generosity  and  courteous  con- 
descension. In  fact,  he  really  believed,  though  I  fear  my 
more  enlightened  republican  readers  will  consider  it  a  proof  of 
his  ignorance  aiid  illiberality,  that  in  preventing  the  cup  of 
social  life  from  being  dashed  with  the  intoxicating  ingredient 
of  politics,  he  promoted  the  tranquillity  and  happiness  of  the 
people — and  by  detaching  their  minds  from  subjects  which 
they  could  not  understand,  and  which  only  tended  to  inflame 
their  passions,  he  enabled  them  to  attend  more  faithfully  and 
industriously  to  their  proper  callings ;  becoming  more  useful 
citizens,  and  more  attentive  to  their  famihes  and  fortunes. 

So  far  from  having  any  unreasonable  austerity,  he  delighted 
to  see  the  poor  and  the  labouring  man  rejoice,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose was  a  great  promoter  of  holydays  and  pubhc  amusements. 
Under  his  reign  was  first  introduced  the  custom  of  cracking 
eggs  at  Paas,  or  Easter.  New-year's  day  was  also  observed 
with  extravagant  festivity,  and  ushered  in  by  the  ringing  of 
bells  and  firing  of  guns.  Every  house  Vv^as  a  temple  to  the  jolly 
god— oceans  of  cherry  brandy,  true  Hollands,  and  mulled 
cider,  were  set  afloat  on  the  occasion ;  and  not  a  poor  man  in 
town  but  made  it  a  point  to  get  drunk,  out  of  a  principle  of 
pure  economy — taking  in  liquor  enough  to  serve  him  for  half 
a  year  afterwards. 

It  would  have  done  one's  heart  good,  also,  to  have  seen  the 
valiant  Peter,  seated  among  the  old  burghers  and  their  wives 
of  a  Saturday  afternoon,  under  the  great  trees  that  spread 
their  shade  over  the  Battery,  watcliing  the  young  men  and 
women,  as  they  danced  on  the  green.  Here  he  would  smoke 
his  pipe,  crack  his  joke,  and  forget  the  rugged  toils  of  war  in 
the  sweet  obHvious  festivities  of  peace.  He  would  occasionally 
give  a  nod  of  approbation  to  those  of  the  young  men  who 
shuffled  and  kicked  most  vigorously,  and  now  and  then  give  a 
hearty  smack,  in  aU  honesty  of  soul,  to  the  buxom  lass  that 
held  out  longest,  and  tired  down  all  her  competitors,  vdiich  he 
considered  as  infallible  proofs  of  her  being  the  best  dancer. 
Once,  it  is  true,  the  harmony  of  the  meeting  was  rather  inter- 
rupted. A  young  vrouw,  of  great  figiu-e  in  the  gay  world,  and 
who,  having  lately  come  from  Holland,  of  course  led  the  fash- 
ions in  the  city,  made  her  appearance  in  not  more  than  half-a- 
dozen  petticoats,  and  these  too  of  most  alarming  shortness. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- TORE, 


263 


An  universal  whisper  ran  through  the  assembly,  the  old  ladies 
all  felt  shocked  in  the  extreme,  the  young  ladies  blushed,  and 
felt  excessively  for  the  "poor  thing,"  and  even  the  governoi 
himself  vv^as  observed  to  be  a  httle  troubled  in  mind.  To  com- 
plete the  astonishment  of  the  good  folks,  she  undertook,  in  the 
course  of  a  jig,  to  describe  some  astonishing  figures  in  algebra, 
which  she  had  learned  from  a  dancing-master  at  Rotterdam. 
Whether  she  was  too  animated  in  ilourisning  her  feet,  or 
whether  some  vagabond  zeyphr  took  the  liberty  of  obtruding 
liis  services,  certain  it  is  that  in  the  course  of  a  grand  evolu- 
tion, wliich  would  not  have  disgraced  a  modern  ball-room,  she 
made  a  most  unexpected  display — whereat  the  whole  assembly 
was  thrown  into  great  admiration,  several  grave  country 
members  were  not  a  httle  moved,  and  the  good  Peter  himself, 
who  was  a  man  of  unparalleled  modesty,  felt  himseK  grievously 
scandalized. 

The  shortness  of  the  female  dresses,  which  had  continued  in 
fashion  ever  since  the  days  of  William  Kief t,  had  long  offended 
his  eye,  and  though  extremely  averse  to  meddhng  with  the 
petticoats  of  the  ladies,  yet  he  immediately  recommended  that 
every  one  should  be  furnished  with  a  flounce  to  the  bottom. 
He  likewise  ordered  that  the  ladies,  and  indeed  the  gentlemen^ 
should  use  no  other  step  in  dancing,  than  shufile-and-turn,  and 
double-trouble;  and  forbade,  under  pain  of  his  high  displeasure, 
any  young  lady  thenceforth  to  attempt  what  was  termed 
"exhibiting  the  graces." 

These  v/ere  the  only  restrictions  he  ever  imposed  upon  the 
sex,  and  these  were  considered  by  them  as  tyrannical  oppres- 
sions, and  resisted  with  that  becoming  spirit  always  mani- 
fested by  the  gentler  sex,  whenever  their  privileges  are 
invaded. — In  fact,  Peter  Stuyvesant  plainly  i)erceived  that  if 
ho  attempted  to  push  the  matter  any  farther,  there  was  danger 
of  their  leaving  off  petticoats  altogether ;  so  like  a  wise  man, 
experienced  in  the  v/ays  of  women,  he  held  his  peace,  and  suf- 
fered them  ever  after  to  wear  their  petticoats  and  cut  their 
capers  as  high  as  they  pleased. 


264 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW  PETER  STUYVESANT  WAS  MUCH  MOLESTED  BY  THE  MOSS- 
TROOPERS OF  THE  EAST,  AND  THE  GIANTS  OF  MERRYLAND— 
AND  HOW  A  DARK  AND  HORRID  CONSPIRACY  WAS  CARRIED  ON 
IN  THE  BRITISH  CABINET  AGAINST  THE  PROSPERITY  OF  THE 
MANHATTOES. 

We  are  now  approaching  towards  the  crisis  of  our  work, 
and  if  I  be  not  mistaken  in  my  forebodings,  we  shall  have  a 
world  of  business  to  despatch  in  the  ensuing  chapters. 

It  is  with  some  conmiunities,  as  it  is  with  certain  meddle- 
some individuals,  they  have  a  wonderful  facility  at  getting 
into  scrapes ;  and  I  have  always  remarked,  that  those  are  most 
Liable  to  get  in  who  have  the  least  talent  at  getting  out  again. 
This  is,  doubtless,  owing  to  the  excessive  valour  of  those 
states;  for  I  have  hkewise  noticed  that  this  rampant  and 
ungovernable  quality  is  always  most  unruly  where  most  con- 
fined ;  which  accounts  for  its  vapouring  so  amazingly  in  little 
states,  httle  men,  and  ugly  httle  women  especially  . 

Thus,  when  one  reflects,  that  the  province  of  the  Manhattoes, 
though  of  prodigious  importance  in  the  eyes  of  its  inhabitants 
and  its  historian,  was  really  of  no  very  great  consequence  in 
the  eyes  of  the  rest  of  the  world ;  that  it  had  but  little  wealth 
or  other  spoUs  to  reward  the  trouble  of  assailing  it,  and  that  it 
had  nothing  to  expect  from  running  wantonly  into  war,  save  an 
exceeding  good  beating.— On  pondering  these  things,  I  say,  on  ■ 
would  utterly  despair  of  finding  in  its  history  either  battles 
bloodshed,  or  any  other  of  those  calamities  which  give  impor 
tance  to  a  nation,  and  entertainment  to  the  reader.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  we  find,  so  valiant  is  this  province,  that  it  has* 
already  drawn  upon  itself  a  host  of  enemies ;  has  had  as  many 
buffetings  as  would  gratify  the  ambition  of  the  most  warlike 
nation ;  and  is,  in  sober  sadness,  a  very  forlorn,  distressed,  and 
woe-begone  little  province ! — ail  which  was,  no  doubt,  kindly 
ordered  by  Providence,  to  give  interest  and  subhniity  to  thi; 
pathetic  history. 

But  I  forbear  to  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  pitiful  maraudings 
and  harassments,  that,  for  a  long  while  after  the  victory  on 
the  Delaware,  continued  to  insult  the  dignity,  and  disturb  the 
repose,  of  the  Nederlanders.    Sufljce  it  in  brevity  to  say,  that 


A  imSTOUY  OF  Is' KW- YORK. 


265 


the  implacable  hostility  of  the  people  of  the  east,  which  had 
so  miraculously  been  prevented  from  breaking  out,  as  my 
readers  must  remember,  by  the  sudden  prevalence  of  witch- 
craft, and  the  dissensions  in  the  council  of  Amphyctions,  now 
again  displayed  itself  in  a  thousand  grievous  and  bitter 
scourings  upon  the  borders. 

Scarcely  a  month  passed  but  vv^hat  the  Dutch  settlements  on 
the  frontiers  were  alarmed  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  an 
invading  army  from  Connecticut.  This  would  advance  reso- 
lutely through  the  country,  hke  a  puissant  caravan  of  the 
deserts,  the  women  and  children  mounted  in  carts  loaded  with 
pots  and  kettles,  as  though  they  meant  to  boil  the  honest 
Dutchmen  alive,  and  devour  them  like  so  many  lobsters.  At 
the  tails  of  these  carts  would  stalk  a  crew  of  long-limbed,  lank- 
sided  varlets,  with  axes  on  their  shoulders  and  packs  on  their 
backs,  resolutely  bent  upon  improving  the  country  in  despite 
of  its  proprietors.  These,  settling  themselves  down,  would  in 
a  short  time  completelj^  dislodge  the  unfortunate  Nederland- 
ers ;  elbowing  them  out  of  those  rich  bottoms  and  fertile  val- 
leys, in  which  our  Dutch  yeomanry  are  so  famous  for  nestling 
themselves.  For  it  is  notorious,  that  wherever  these  shrewd 
men  of  the  east  get  a  footing,  the  honest  Dutchmen  do  gradu- 
ally disappear,  retiring  slowly,  hke  the  Indians  before  the 
whites;  being  totally  discomfited  by  the  talking,  chaffering, 
swapping,  bargaining  disposition  of  their  new  neighbours. 

All  these  audacious  infringements  on  the  territories  of  their 
High  Mightinesses  were  accompanied,  as  has  before  been 
hinted,  by  a  world  of  rascally  brawls,  ribroastings,  and  bund- 
lings,  which  would  doubtless  have  incensed  the  valiant  Peter 
to  wreak  immediate  chastisement,  had  he  not  at  the  very  same 
time  been  perplexed  by  distressing  accounts  from  Mynlieer 
Beckman,  who  commanded  the  territories  at  South  river. 

The  restless  Sv^edes,  who  had  so  graciously  been  suffered  to 
remain  about  the  Delaware,  already  began  to  show  signs  of 
mutiny  and  disaffection.  But  what  was  worse,  a  peremptory 
claim  was  laid  to  the  whole  territory,  as  the  rightful  property 
of  Lord  Baltimore,  by  Feudal,  a  chieftain  who  ruled  over  the 
colony  of  Maryland,  or  Merry -land,  as  it  was  anciently  called, 
because  that  the  inhabitants,  not  having  the  fear  of  the  Lord 
before  their  eyes,  were  notoriously  prone  to  get  fuddled  ond 
make  merry  with  mint-julep  and  apple-toddy.  Nay,  so  hostile 
was  this  bully  Feudal,  that  he  threatened,  unless  his  claim  was 
instantly  complied  with,  to  march  incontinently  at  the  head  of 


266 


A  niSTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


a  potent  force  of  the  roaring  boys  of  !Merry-land,  together  with 
a  great  and  mighty  train  of  giants,  who  infested  the  banks  of 
the  Susquehanna* — and  to  lay  waste  and  depopulate  the  whole 
country  of  South  river. 

By  this  it  is  manifest,  that  this  boasted  colony,  like  all  great 
acquisitions  of  territory,  soon  became  a  greater  evil  to  the  con- 
queror than  the  loss  of  it  was  to  the  conquered ;  and  caused 
greater  uneasmess  and  trouble  than  all  the  territory  of  the 
New-Netherlands  besides.  Thus  Providence  wisely  orders  that 
one  evil  shall  balance  another.  The  conqueror  who  wrests  the 
property  of  his  neighbour,  who  wi'ongs  a  nation  and  desolates 
a  country,  though  he  may  acquire  increase  of  empu-e  and  im- 
mortal fame,  yet  insures  his  own  inevitable  pmiishment.  He 
takes  to  himseK  a  cause  of  endless  anxiety — he  incorporates 
with  his  late  sound  domain  a  loose  part— a  rotten,  disaffected 
member;  which  is  an  exhaustless  source  of  internal  treason 
and  disunion,  and  external  altercation  and  hostihty.  Happy 
is  that  nation,  which  compact,  united,  loyal  in  all  its  parts,  and 
concentrated  in  its  strength,  seeks  no  idle  acquisition  of  un- 
profitable and  ungovernable  territory— which,  content  to  be 
prosperous  and  happy,  has  no  ambition  to  be  great.  It  is  like 
a  man  well  organized  in  his  system,  sound  in  health,  and  full 
of  vigour :  unencumbered  by  useless  trappings,  and  fixed  in  an 
unshaken  attitude.  But  the  nation,  insatiable  of  territory, 
whose  domains  are  scattered,  feebly  united  and  weakly  organ- 
ized, is  like  a  senseless  miser  sprawhng  among  golden  stores, 
open  to  every  attack,  and  miable  to  defend  the  riches  he  vainly 
endeavours  to  overshadow. 

At  the  time  of  receiving  the  alarming  despatches  from  South 
river,  the  great  Peter  was  busily  employed  in  queUing  certain 
Indian  troubles  that  had  broken  out  about  Esopus,  and  Avas 
moreover  meditating  how  to  reheve  his  eastern  borders  on  the 
Connecticut.  He,  however,  sent  word  to  Mynheer  Beckman 
to  be  of  good  heart,  to  maintain  mcessant  vigilance,  and  to  let 


*  We  find  very  curious  and  wondei-ful  accounts  of  these  strange  people  (who 
were  doubtless  the  ancestors  of  the  present  Mar>ianders')  made  by  IMaster  Hariot, 
in  his  interesting' history.  '"The  Supquesahanocks."  observer  he,"  are  a  giantly 
people,  strange  in  proportion,  behaviour,  and  attire— their  voice  sounding  froin 
them  as  if  out  of  a  cave.  Their  tobacco-pipes  were  three  quartei-s  of  a  yai-d  long, 
carved  at  the  great  end  with  a  bird,  beare,  or  other  device,  sufficient  to  beat  out 
the  braines  of  a  horse,  (and  how  many  asses  braines  are  beaten  out.  or  rather 
men's  braines  smoked  out,  and  asses  braines  haled  in,  by  our  lesser  pipes  athomp 
The  calfe  of  one  of  their  legges  measured  tliree  quarters  of  a  yard  alx)r.t,  the  res 
of  his  limbs  proportionable."— Har lot's  Toiirn.  Purch.  Pil. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK 


2m 


him  know  if  matters  wore  a  more  threatening  appearance ;  in 
which  case  he  would  incontinently  repair  with  his  warriors  of 
the  Hudson,  to  spoil  the  merriment  of  these  Merry-landers; 
for  he  coveted  exceedingly  to  have  a  bout,  hand  to  hand,  Vv^itli 
some  half  a  score  of  these  giants— having  never  encountered  a 
giant  in  liis  whole  life,  unless  we  may  so  call  the  stout  Risingh, 
and  he  was  but  a  little  one. 

Nothing  farther,  however,  occurred  to  molest  the  tran- 
quillity of  Mynheer  Beckman  and  his  colony.  Feudal  and 
his  myrmidons  remained  at  home,  carousing  it  soundly  upon 
hoe-cakes,  bacon,  and  mint-julep,  and  rumung  horses,  and 
fighting  cocks,  for  which  they  were  greatly  renowned. — At 
hearing  o±  tliis,  Peter  Stuyvesant  was  very  well  pleased,  for 
notwithstanding  his  inclination  to  measure  weapons  with 
these  monstrous  men  of  the  Susquehanna,  yet  he  had  already 
as  much  employment  nearer  home  as  he  could  turn  his  hands 
to.  Little  did  he  think,  worthy  soul,  that  this  southern  calm 
was  but  the  deceitful  prelude  to  a  most  terrible  and  fatal 
storm,  then  brevfing,  which  was  soon  to  burst  forth  and  over- 
whelm the  unsuspecting  city  of  New- Amsterdam. 

Now  so  it  was,  that  while  this  excellent  governor  was  giving 
his  little  senate  laws,  and  not  only  giving  them,  but  enforcing 
them  too— while  he  was  incessantly  travelhng  the  rounds  of 
his  beloved  province— posting  from  place  to  place  to  redress 
gi-ievances,  and  while  busy  at  one  corner  of  his  dominions,  all 
the  rest  getting  into  an  uproar— at  this  very  time,  I  say,  a 
dark  and  direful  plot  was  hatching  against  him,  in  that 
nursery  of  monstrous  projects,  the  British  cabinet.  The  news 
of  his  achievements  on  the  Delaware,  according  to  a  sage  old 
historian  of  New- Amsterdam,  had  occasioned  not  a  little  talk 
and  mai'vel  in  the  courts  of  Europe.  And  the  same  profound 
writer  assm^es  us,  that  the  cabinet  of  England  began  to  enter- 
tain great  jealousy  and  uneasiness  at  the  increasing  power  of 
the  Manhattoes,  and  the  valour  of  its  sturdy  yeomanry. 

Agents,  the  same  historian  observes,  were  sent  by  the  Am- 
phyctionic  council  of  the  east  to  entreat  the  assistance  of  the 
British  cabinet  in  subjugating  this  mighty  province.  Lord 
Sterling  also  asserted  his  right  to  Long  Island,  and  at  the  same 
time.  Lord  Baltimore,  whose  agent,  as  has  before  been  men- 
tioned, had  so  alarmed  Mynheer  Beckman,  laid  his  clami  be- 
fore the  cabinet  to  the  lands  of  South  river,  which  he  com- 
plained were  unjustly  and  forcibly  detained  from  him  by  these 
daring  usuri^ers  of  the  Nieuw-Nederlandts. 


268 


A  HISTORY  OF  JS'EW-YORK. 


Thus  did  the  unlucky  empire  of  the  Manhattoes  stand  in 
imminent  danger  of  experiencing  the  fate  of  Poland,  and 
being  torn  limb  from  limb  to  be  shared  among  its  savage 
neighbours.  But  while  these  rapacious  powers  were  whetting 
their  fangs,  and  waiting  for  the  signal  to  fall  tooth  and  naiJ 
upon  this  dehcious  httle  fat  Dutch  empire,  the  lordly  lion,  who 
sat  as  umpire,  all  at  once  settled  the  claims  of  all  parties,  by 
laying  tliis  own  paw  upon  the  spoil.  For  we  are  told  that  his 
majesty,  Charles  the  Second,  not  to  be  perplexed  by  adjusting 
these  several  pretensions,  made  a  present  of  a  large  tract  of 
North  America,  including  the  province  of  New-Netherlands,  to 
his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York— a  donation  tndy  loyal,  since 
none  but  great  monarchs  have  a  right  to  give  away  what  does 
not  belong  to  them. 

That  this  mimificent  gift  might  not  be  merely  nominal,  his 
majesty,  on  the  12th  of  March,  1664,  ordered  that  an  armament 
should  be  forthwith  prepared,  to  invade  the  city  of  New- Am- 
sterdam by  land  and  water,  and  put  his  brother  in  complete 
possession  of  the  premises. 

Thus  critically  are  situated  the  affairs  of  the  New-Nether- 
landers.  The  honest  burghers,  so  far  from  thinking  of  the 
jeopardy  in  which  their  interests  are  placed,  are  soberly 
smoking  their  pipes,  and  thinking  of  notliing  at  all— the  privy 
counsellors  of  the  province  are  at  this  moment  snoring  in  full 
quorum,  while  the  acting  Peter,  who  takes  all  the  labour  of 
thinking  and  active  upon  himself,  is  busily  devising  some 
method  of  bringing  the  gi*and  council  of  Amphyctions  to 
terms.  In  the  meanwhile,  an  angry  cloud  is  darkly  scowhng 
on  the  horizon — soon  shall  it  rattle  about  the  ears  of  these 
dozing  Nederlanders,  and  put  the  mettle  of  their  stout-hearted 
governor  completely  to  the  trial. 

But  come  what  may,  I  here  pledge  my  veracity  that  in  all 
wariilie  conflicts  and  subtle  perplexities,  he  shall  still  acquit 
himself  with  the  gallant  bearing  and  spotless  honour  of  a 
noble-minded,  obstinate  old  cavaher.— Forward  then  to  the 
charge!— shine  out,  propitious  stars,  on  the  renowned  city  of 
the  ]\Ianhattoes ;  And  may  the  blessing  of  St.  Nicholas  go  with 
thee— honest  Peter  Stuyvesant ! 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  PETER  STUYVESANT'S  EXPEDITION  INTO  THE  EAST  COUNTRY, 
SHOWING  THAT  THOUGH  AN  OLD  BIRD  HE  DID  NOT  UNDER- 
STAND TRAP. 

Great  nations  resemble  great  men  in  this  particular,  that 
their  grca^tness  is  seldom  known  until  thej^  get  in  trouble; 
adversity,  therefore,  has  been  wisely  denominated  the  ordeal 
of  true  greatness,  which,  hke  gold,  can  never  receive  its  real 
estimation,  until  it  has  passed  through  the  furnace.  In  pro- 
portion, therefore,  as  a  nation,  a  community,  or  an  individual 
(possessing  the  inherent  quahty  of  greatness)  is  involved  in 
perils  and  misfortunes,  in  proportion  does  it  rise  in  grandeur— 
and  even  when  sinking  under  calamity,  makes,  like  a  house 
on  fire,  a  more  glorious  display  tlian  ever  it  did  in  the  fairest 
period  of  its  prosperity. 

The  vast  empii-e  of  China,  though  teeming  with  population 
and  imbibing  and  concentrating  the  wealth  of  nations,  has 
vegetated  through  a  succession  of  drowsy  ages ;  and  were  it 
not  for  its  internal  revolution,  and  the  subversion  of  its  ancient 
government  by  the  Tartars,  might  have  presented  nothing  but 
an  uninteresting  detail  of  dull,  monotonous  prosperity.  Pom- 
peii and  Herculaneum  might  have  passed  into  obhvion,  with  a 
herd  of  their  contemporaries,  if  they  had  not  been  fortunately 
overAvhelmed  by  a  volcano.  The  rencAvned  city  of  Troy  has 
acquired  celebrity  only  from  its  tsn  years'  distress,  and  final 
conflagration— Paris  rises  in  importance  by  the  plots  and  mas- 
sacres which  have  ended  in  the  exaltation  of  the  illustrious 
Kapoleon — and  even  the  mighty  London  itself  has  skulked 
through  the  records  of  time,  celebrated  for  nothing  of  moment, 
excepting  the  plague,  the  great  fire,  and  Guy  Faux's  gun- 
powder plot!— Thus  cities  and  empires  seem  to  creep  along, 
enlarging  in  silent  obscurity  under  the  pen  of  the  historian, 
until  at  length  they  burst  forth  in  some  tremendous  calamity 
— and  snatch,  as  it  were,  immortality  from  the  explosion  I 

The  above  principle  being  admitted,  my  reader  will  plainly 
perceive  that  the  city  of  New-Am^sterdam,  and  its  dependent 
province,  are  on  the  high  road  to  greatness.  Dangers  and 
hostilities  threaten  from  every  side,  and  it  is  really  a  matter 
of  astonishment  to  me,  how  so  small  a  state  has  been  able,  in 


270 


A  HISrORT  OF  NEW-YORK. 


so  short  a  time,  to  entangle  itself  in  so  many  difficulties. 
Ever  since  the  pi-ovince  was  first  taken  by  the  nose,  at  the 
Fort  of  Good  Hope,  iii  the  tranquil  days  of  Wouter  Van 
Twiller,  has  it  been  gradually  increasing  in  historic  import- 
ance ;  and  never  could  it  have  had  a  more  appropriate  cliief- 
tain  to  conduct  it  to  the  pinnacle  of  grandeur,  than  Peter 
Stuyvesant. 

In  the  fiery  heart  of  this  iron-headed  old  warrior  sat  en- 
throned all  those  five  kinds  of  courage  described  by  Aristotle, 
and  had  the  philosopher  mentioned  five  hundred  more  to  the 
back  of  them,  I  verily  believe  he  would  have  been  found  mas- 
ter of  them  all.  The  only  misfortune  was,  that  he  was  defi- 
cient in  the  better  part  of  valour,  called  discretion,  a  cold- 
blooded virtue  which  could  not  exist  in  the  tropical  climate  of 
his  mighty  soul.  Hence  it  was,  he  was  continually  hurrying 
into  those  unheard-of  enterprises  that  gave  an  air  of  chivalric 
romance  to  all  his  history,  and  hence  it  was*  that  he  now  con- 
ceived a  project  worthy  of  the  hero  of  La  Mancha  Mm  self. 

This  was  no  other  than  to  repair  in  person  to  the  great 
council  of  the  Amphyctions,  bearing  the  sword  in  one  hand 
and  the  ohve-branch  in  the  other— to  require  immediate  repa- 
ration for  the  innumerable  violations  of  that  treaty  which  in 
an  evil  hour  he  had  formed — to  put  a  stop  to  those  repeated 
maraudings  on  the  eastern  borders— or  else  to  throw  his 
gauntlet  and  appeal  to  arms  for  satisfaction. 

On  declaring  this  resolution  in  liis  privy  council,  the  vener- 
able members  were  seized  with  vast  astonishment ;  for  once  in 
their  fives  they  ventured  to  remonstrate,  setting  forth  the 
rashness  of  exposing  his  sacred  person  in  the  midst  of  a  strange 
and  barbarous  people,  with  sundry  other  weighty  remon- 
strances—all which  had  about  as  much  influence  upon  the 
determination  of  the  headstrong  Peter  as  though  you  were  to 
endeavour  to  turn  a  rusty  weathercock  with  a  broken- winded 
bellows. 

Summoning,  therefore,  to  liis  presence  his  trusty  follower, 
Antony  Van  Corlear,  he  commanded  him  to  hold  himself  in 
readiness  to  accompany  him  the  following  morning  on  this  his 
hazardous  enterprise.  Now  Antony  the  trumpeter  was  a  httle 
stricken  in  years,  yet  by  dint  of  keeping  up  a  good  heart,  and 
having  never  known  care  or  sorrow,  (having  never  been  mar- 
ried,) he  was  still  a  hearty,  jocund,  rubicund,  gamesome  wag, 
and  of  great  capacity  in  the  doublet.  This  last  was  ascribed  to 
bis  living  a  jolly  life  on  those  domains  at  the  Hook,  which 


A  JITSTOBY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


271 


Peter  Stuy  vosant  had  granted  to  him  for  his  gallantry  at  Fort 
Casimir. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  there  was  nothing  that  more  delighted 
Antony  than  this  command  of  the  great  Peter,  for  he  could 
have  followed  the  stout-hearted  old  governor  to  the  world's 
end  with  love  and  loyalty — and  he  moreover  still  remembered 
the  frolicking,  and  dancing,  and  bundling,  and  other  disports 
of  the  east  country,  and  entertained  dainty  recollection  of 
numerous  kind  and  buxom  lasses,  whom  he  longed  exceedingly 
again  to  encoimter. 

Thus,  then,  did  this  mirror  of  hardihood  set  forth,  with 
no  other  attendant  but  his  trumpeter,  upon  one  of  the  most 
perilous  enterprises  ever  recorded  in  the  annals  of  knight- 
errantry.  For  a  single  warrior  to  venture  openly  among  a 
whole  nation  of  foes;  but  above  all,  for  a  plain  downright 
Dutchman  to  think  of  negotiating  with  the  whole  council  of 
New-England — never  was  there  known  a  more  desperate  un- 
dertaking !— Ever  since  I  have  entered  upon  the  clironicles  of 
this  peerless,  but  hitherto  uncelebrated,  chieftain,  has  he  kept 
me  in  a  state  of  incessant  action  and  anxiety  with  the  toils  and 
dangers  he  is  constantly  encoimtering. — Oh!  for  a  chapter  of 
the  tranquil  reign  of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  that  I  might  repose 
on  it  as  on  a  feather  bed ! 

Is  it  not  enough,  Peter  Stuyvesant,  that  I  have  once  already 
rescued  thee  from  the  macliinations  of  these  terrible  Amphyc- 
tions,  by  bringing  the  whole  powers  of  witchcraft  to  thine 
aid? — Isifcnot  enough  that  I  have  followed  thee  undaunted, 
like  a  guardian  spirit,  into  the  midst  of  the  horrid  battle  of 
Fort  Christina?— That  I  have  been  put  incessantly  to  my 
trumps  to  keep  thee  safe  and  sound— now  warding  off  with  my 
single  pen  the  shower  of  dastard  blows  that  fell  upon  thy  rear 
— now  narrovv'ly  shielding  thee  from  a  deadly  thrust,  by  a, 
mere  tobacco-box — now  casing  thy  dauntless  skull  with  ada- 
mant, when  even  thy  stubborn  ram-beaver  failed  to  resist  the 
sword  of  the  stout  Pisingh— and  now,  not  merely  bringing 
thee  off  alive,  but  triumphant,  from  the  clutches  of  the  gigan- 
tic Swede,  by  the  desperate  means  of  a  paltry  stone  pottle?-- 
Is  not  aU  this  enough,  but  must  thou  still  be  plunging  into 
new  difficulties,  and  jeopardizing  in  headlong  enterprises,  thy- 
self, thy  trumpeter,  and  thy  historian? 

And  now  the  ruddy-faced  Aurora,  like  a  buxom  chamber- 
maid, draws  aside  the  sable  curtains  of  the  night,  and  out 
bounces  from  his  bed  the  jolly  red-haired  Phoebus,  startled  at 


272 


.1  IIISTOIIY  OF  JS'EW-YGRK. 


being  caught  so  late  in  tlie  embraces  of  Dame  Thetis.  "With 
many  a  sable  oath,  he  harnesses  his  brazen-footed  steeds,  and 
whips  and  lashes,  and  splashes  up  the  lirmOvment,  like  a  loiter- 
ing i)ost-boy,  half  an  hour  behind  his  time.  And  now  behold 
tliat  imp  of  fame  and  prowess,  the  headstrong  Peter,  bestrid- 
ing a  raw-boned,  switch-tailed  charger,  gallantly  arrayed  in 
full  regimentals,  and  bracing  on  his  thigh  that  trusty  brass 
hilted  sword,  which  had  wrought  such  fearful  deeds  on  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware. 

Behold,  hard  after  liim,  his  douglity  trumpeter  Van  Corlear, 
mounted  on  a  broken-mnded,  wall-eyed,  cahco  mare ;  his  stone 
pottle,  which  had  laid  \osy  the  mighty  Risingh,  slung  under  his 
arm,  and  his  trumi^et  displayed  vauntmgly  in  his  right  hand, 
decorated  with  a  gorgeous  banner,  on  which  is  emblazoned  the 
great  beaver  of  the  I.Ianhattoes.  See  them  proudly  issuing 
out  of  the  city  gate  like  an  iron-clad  hero  of  yore,  with  his 
faithful  'squire  at  his  heels,  the  populace  following  them  with 
their  eyes,  and  shouting  many  a  parting  wish  and  hearty 
cheering. — Farewell,  Ilardkoppig  Piet!  Farewell,  honest  An- 
tony!— Pleasant  be  your  wayfaring — prosperous  your  return! 
The  stoutest  hero  that  ever  drew  a  sword,  and  the  worthiest 
trumpeter  that  ever  trod  shoe-leather ! 

Legends  are  lamentably  silent  about  the  events  that  befell  our 
adventurers  in  this  their  adventurous  travel,  excepting  the 
Stuyvesant  manusoript,  which  gives  the  substance  of  a  pleas- 
ant little  heroic  poem  written  on  the  occasion  by  Domuii 
^gidius  Luyck,*  who  appears  to  have  been  the  poet  laureat 
of  New- Amsterdam.  This  inestimable  manuscript  assures  us 
that  it  was  a  rare  spectacle  to  behold  the  great  Peter  and  his 
loyal  follower  hailing  the  morning  sun,  and  rejoicing  in  tho 
clear  countenance  of  nature,  as  they  pranced  it  tlirougli  the 
pastoral  scenes  of  Bloemen  Dael :  +  which  in  those  days  was  a 
sweet  and  rural  valley,  beautified  with  many  a  bright  wild 
flower,  refreshed  by  many  a  pure  streamlet,  and  enhvened 
here  and  there  by  a  delectable  little  Dutch  cottage,  sheltered 
under  some  sloping  hill,  and  almost  buried  in  embowering 
trees. . 

Now  did  they  enter  upon  the  confines  of  Connecticut,  where 
they  encountered  many  gi-ievous  difficulties  and  pei-ils.  At 


*  This  Luyck  was,  moreover,  rector  of  the  Latin  School  in  Nieuw-Nederlandt, 
1683.  There  are  two  pieces  addressed  to  ^jridius  I.uyck,  in  D.  Selj^n's  MSS.  o^ 
poesies,  upon  his  marriag:e  with  Judith  Isendoorn.    Old  MS. 

t  Now  called  Blooming  Dale,  about  four  miles  from  New- York. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


273 


one  place  thoy  were  assailed  by  a  troop  of  country  'squires  and 
militia  colonels,  who,  mounted  on  goodly  steeds,  hung  upon 
their  rear  for  several  mile^,  harassing  them  exceedingly  with 
guesses  and  questions,  more  especially  the  worthy  Peter,  whoso 
j  silver-chased  leg  excited  not  a  little  marvel.  At  another  place, 
I  hard  by  the  renowned  town  of  Stamford,  they  were  set  upon 
by  a  great  and  mighty  legion  of  church  deacons,  wlio  impcri- 
(nisly  demanded  of  them  five  shillings,  for  travelling  on  Sun- 
flay,  and  threatened  to  carry  them  captive  to  a  neighbouring 
churcli,  whose  steeple  peered  above  the  trees;  but  these  the 
valiant  Peter  put  to  rout  with  httle  difficulty,  insomuch  that 
tliey  bestrode  their  canes  and  g;alloped  off  in  horrible  con- 
!  fusion,  leaving  their  cocked  hats  behind  in  the  hurry  of  their 
flight.  But  not  so  easily  did  he  escape  from  the  hands  of 
a  crafty  man  of  Piquag;  who,  with  undaimted  perseverance, 
and  repeated  onsets,  fairly  bargained  him  out  of  his  goodly 
switched-tailed  charger,  leaving  in  place  thereof  a  villainous 
foundered  Narraganset  pacer. 

But,  maugre  all  these  hardsliips,  they  pursued  their  journey 
cheerily  along  the  course  of  the  soft  flowing  Connecticut, 
whose  gentle  waves,  says  the  song,  roll  through  many  a  fer- 
tile vale  and  sunny  plain ;  now  reflecting  the  lofty  spires  of  the 
bustling  city,  and  now  the  rural  beauties  of  the  humble  ham- 
let ;  now  echoing  with  the  busy  hum  of  commerce,  and  now 
with  the  cheerful  song  of  the  peasant. 

At  every  town  would  Peter  Stuyvesant,  who  was  noted  for 
warlike  punctilio,  order  the  sturdy  Antony  to  soimd  a  cour- 
teous salutation;  though  the  manuscript  observes,  that  the 
inhabitants  were  thrown  into  gi^eat  dismay  when  they  heard 
of  his  approach.  For  the  fame  of  his  incomparable  achieve- 
ments on  the  Delaware  had  spread  thi'oughout  the  cast  coun- 
try, and  they  dreaded  lest  he  had  come  to  take  vengeance  on 
their  manifold  transgressions. 

But  the  good  Peter  rode  through  these  towns  with  a  smiling 
aspect;  waving  his  hand  with  inexpressible  majesty  and  con- 
descension ;  for  he  verily  believed  that  the  old  clothes  which 
these  ingenious  people  had  thrust  into  their  broken  windows, 
and  the  festoons  of  dried  apples  and  peaches  which  ornamented 
the  fronts  of  their  houses,  were  so  many  decorations  in  honour 
of  his  approach ;  as  it  was  the  custom,  in  the  days  of  chivalry, 
to  compliment  reno^\^led  heroes  by  sumptuous  displays  of 
tapestry  and  gorgeous  furniture.  The  women  crowded  to  the 
doors  to  gaze  upon  him  as  he  passed,  so  much  does  prowess  in 


274 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK 


arms  delight  the  gentle  sex.  The  little  children,  too,  ran  after 
him  in  troops,  staring  with  wonder  at  his  regimentals,  liia 
brimstone  breeches,  and  the  silver  garnitm^e  of  his  wooden 
leg.  Nor  must  I  omit  to  mention  the  joy  which  many  strap- 
ping wenches  betrayed  at  beholding  the  jovial  Van  Corlear, 
who  had  whilom  delighted  them  so  much  with  his  trumpet, 
when  he  bore  the  great  Peter's  challenge  to  the  Amphyctions. 
The  kind-hearted  Antony  alighted  from  his  calico  mare,  and 
kissed  them  ail  with  infinite  loving  kindness— and  was  riglit 
plepvSed  to  see  a  crew  of  httle  trimipeters  crowding  around  him 
tor  his  blessing ;  each  of  whom  he  patted  on  the  head,  bade 
him  be  a  good  boy,  and  gave  him  a  penny  to  buy  molasses 
candy. 

The  Stuyvesant  manuscript  makes  but  little  farther  mention 
of  the  governor's  adventures  upon  this  expedition,  excepting 
that  he  was  received  with  extravagant  courtesy  and  respect 
by  the  great  council  of  the  Amphyctions,  who  almost  talked 
him  to  death  with  complimentary  and  congratulatory  ha- 
rangues. I  will  not  detain  my  readers  by  dweUing  on  his 
negotiations  with  the  grand  council.  Suffice  it  to  mention,  it 
was  like  all  other  negotiations — a  great  deal  was  said,  and  very 
httle  done:  one  conversation  led  to  another — one  conference 
begat  misunderstandings  wliich  it  took  a  dozen  conferences  to 
explain ;  at  the  end  of  which,  the  parties  found  themselves  just 
wliere  they  were  at  first ;  exceptiag  that  they  had  entangled 
themselves  in  a  host  of  questions  of  etiquette,  and  conceived  a 
cordial  distrust  of  each  other,  that  rendered  their  future  nego- 
tiations ten  times  more  difficult  than  ever.* 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  perplexities,  which  bewildered  the 
brain  and  incensed  the  ire  of  the  sturdy  Peter,  who  was  per- 
haps of  all  men  in  the  world  least  fitted  for  diplomatic  wiles, 
he  privately  received  the  first  intimation  of  the  dark  con- 
spiracy which  had  been  matured  in  the  Cabinet  of  England. 
To  this  was  added  the  astounding  intelligence  that  a  hostile 
squadron  had  already  sailed  from  England,  destined  to  reduce 
the  province  of  New-Netherlands,  and  that  the  grand  council 
of  Amphyctions  had  engaged  to  co-operate,  by  sending  a  great 
army  to  invade  New- Amsterdam  by  land. 

Unfortunate  Peter!  did  I  not  enter  with  sad  foreboding 


*  For  certain  ot  the  particulars  of  this  ancient  negotiation  see  Haz.  Col.  State 
Papers.  It  is  singular  that  Smith  is  entirely  silent  with  respect  to  this  memorably 
expedition  of  Peter  Stuyvesant 


A  IILSTORl'  OF  ^EW  YORK. 


275 


ui^on  this  ill-starred  expedition?  did  I  not  tremble  when  1  saw 
thee,  with  no  other  counsellor  but  thine  own  head,  with  no 
other  armour  but  an  honest  tongue,  a  spotless  conscience,  and 
a  rusty  sword !  with  no  other  protector  but  St.  Nicholas— and 
no  other  attendant  but  a  trumpeter— did  I  not  tremble  when  I 
beheld  thee  thus  sally  forth  to  contend  with  all  the  knowing 
powers  of  New-England? 

Oh,  how  did  the  sturdy  old  warrior  rage  and  roar,  when  ho 
found  himself  thus  entrapped,  like  a  lion  in  the  hunter's  toil ! 
Now  did  he  determine  to  draw  his  trusty  sword,  and  manfully 
to  fight  his  way  through  all  the  countries  of  the  east.  Now 
did  he  resolve  to  break  in  upon  the  council  of  the  Amphyc- 
tions,  and  put  every  mother's  son  of  them  to  death.  At  length, 
as  his  direful  wrath  subsided,  he  resorted  to  safer  though  less 
glorious  expedients. 

ConceeJing  from  the  council  his  knowledge  of  their  machi- 
nations, he  privately  dispatched  a  trusty  messenger,  with  mis- 
sives to  his  counsellors  at  New- Amsterdam,  apprising  them  of 
the  impending  danger,  commanding  them  immediately  to  put 
the  city  in  a  posture  of  defence,  while  in  the  meantime  he 
would  endeavour  to  elude  his  enemies  and  come  to  their  assist- 
ance. This  done,  he  felt  himself  marvellously  relieved,  rose 
slowly,  shook  himself  like  a  rhinoceros,  and  issued  forth  from 
his  den,  in  much  the  same  manner  as  Giant  Despair  is  de- 
scribed to  have  issued  .from  Doubting  Castle,  in  the  chivaMc 
history  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

And  now,  much  does  it  grieve  me  that  I  must  leave  the  gal- 
lant Peter  in  this  imminent  jeopardy:  but  it  behoves  us  to 
hurry  back  and  see  Avhat  is  going  on  at  New -Amsterdam,  for 
greatly  do  I  fear  that  city  is  already  in  a  turmoil.  Such  was 
ever  the  fate  of  Peter  Stuyvesant;  while  doing  one  thing  with 
heart  and  soul,  he  was  too  apt  to  leave  every  thing  else  at 
sixes  and  sevens.  While,  like  a  potentate  of  yore,  he  was 
absent,  attending  to  those  things  in  person,  which  in  modern 
days  are  trusted  to  generals  and  ambassadors,  his  little  terri- 
tory at  home  was  sure  to  get  in  an  uproar. — All  which  was 
owing  to  that  uncommon  strength  of  intellect  which  induced 
him  to  trust  to  nobody  but  himself,  and  which  had  acquired 
him  the  renowned  appellation  of  Peter  the  Headstrong. 


276 


A  mSTORY  OF  NEW-YOllK. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  THE   PEOPLE   OF   NEW-AMSTERDAM  WERE   THROWN  INTO  A 
,    GREAT    PANIC,  BY   THE    NEWS   OF    A   THREATENED  INVASION, 
AND  THE  MANNER  IN  WHICH  THEY  FORTIFIED  THEMSELVES. 

There  is  no  sight  more  truly  interesting  to  a  philosopher, 
than  to  contemplate  a  community,  where  every  individual  has 
a  voice  in  public  affairs,  where  every  individual  thinks  him- 
self the  Atlas  of  the  nation,  and  where  every  individual  thinks 
it  Ills  duty  to  bestir  hunself  for  the  good  of  his  country. — 
I  say,  there  is  nothing  more  interesting  to  a  philosopher,  than 
to  see  such  a  comnmnity  in  a  sudden  bustle  of  war.  Such  a 
clamour  of  tongues — such  a  bawling  of  patriotism— such  run- 
ning hither  and  tliither— every  body  in  a  hurry —every  body 
up  to  the  ears  in  trouble— every  body  in  the  way,  and  every 
body  interruptmg  his  industrious  neighbour — who  is  busily 
employed  m  doing  nothing !  It  is  like  witnessing  a  great  fire, 
where  everj^  man  is  at  work  hke  a  hero— some  dragging  about 
empty  engines — others  scampermg  with  full  buckets,  and  spill- 
ing the  contents  into  the  boots  of  their  neighbours — and  others 
ringing  the  church  bells  aU  raght,  by  way  of  putting  out  the 
fire.  Little  firemen,  like  sturdy  little  knights  storming  a 
breach,  clambering  up  and  down  scahng-ladders,  and  bawling 
through  tin  trumpets,  by  way  of  directing  the  attack.— Here 
one  busy  fellow,  in  his  great  zeal  to  save  the  property  of  the 
unfortunate,  catches  up  an  anonymous  chamber  utensil,  and 
gallants  it  oif  with  an  air  of  as  much  self-importance,  as  if  he 
had  rescued  a  pot  of  money— another  throws  lookmg-glasses 
and  ciiina  out  of  the  wmdow,  to  save  them  from  the  flames, 
whilst  those  who  can  do  nothing  else  to  as;'ist  tlie  great  calam- 
ity, run  up  and  down  the  streets  w4th  open  thi'oats,  keeping 
up  an  incessant  cry  of  Fire !  Fire !  Fire  I 

"When  the  news  arrived  at  Sinope,"  says  the  grave  and 
profound  Lucian— though  I  own  the  story  is  rather  trite, "  that 
Philip  was  about  to  attack  them,  the  inhabitants  were  thrown 
into  violent  alarm.  Some  ran  to  furbish  up  their  arms;  others 
rolled  stones  to  build  up  the  walls— every  body,  in  short,  was 
employed,  and  every  body  was  in  the  way  of  Ins  neighbour. 
Diogenes  alone  was  the  only  man  who  could  find  notliing  to  do 
— whereujjon,  determining  not  to  be  idle  when  the  welfare 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


277 


his  country  was  at  stake,  he  tucked  up  his  robe,  and  fell  to 
rolling  his  tub  with  might  and  main  up  and  down  the  Gymna- 
sium." In  like  manner  did  every  mother's  son,  in  the  patriotic 
community  of  New- Amsterdam,  on  receiving  the  missives  oi 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  busy  himself  most  mightily  in  putting 
things  in  confusion,  and  assisting  the  general  uproar.  "  Every 
man"— saith  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript—"  flew  to  arms!"— by 
which  is  meant,  that  not  one  of  our  honest  Dutch  citizens 
would  venture  to  church  or  to  market,  T\athout  an  old-fash- 
ioned spit  of  a  sword  danghng  at  his  side,  and  a  long  Dutch 
fowhng-piece  on  his  shoulder— nor  would  he  go  out  of  a  night 
without  a  lantern;  nor  turn  a  corner  without  first  peeping 
cautiously  round,  lest  he  should  come  unawares  upon  a  British 
army. — And  we  are  infonned  that  Stoffel  Brinkerhoif,  who 
was  considered  by  the  old  women  almost  as  brave  a  man  as 
the  governor  himself — actually  had  two  one-pound  swivels 
mounted  in  his  entry,  one  pointing  out  at  the  front  door,  and 
the  other  at  the  back. 

But  the  most  strenuous  measure  resorted  to  on  this  awful 
occasion,  and  one  which  has  since  been  found  of  wonderful 
eflicacy,  was  to  assemble  popular  meetings.  These  brawling 
convocations,  I  have  already  shown,  were  extremely  offensive 
to  Peter  Stuyvesant,  but  as  this  was  a  moment  of  imusual  agi- 
tation, and  as  the  old  governor  was  not  present  to  repress 
them,  they  broke  out  vnth  intolerable  violence.  Hither,  there- 
fore, the  orators  and  politicians  repaired,  and  there  seemed  to 
be  a  competition  among  them  w^ho  should  bawl  the  loudest, 
and  exceed  the  others  in  hyperbohcal  bursts  of  patriotism, 
and  in  resolutions  to  uphold  and  defend  the  Government.  In 
these  sage  and  all-powerful  meetings,  it  was  determined,  7ie'in. 
con.,  that  they  were  the  most  enlightened,  the  most  dignified, 
the  most  formidable,  and  the  most  ancient  community  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Finding  that  this  resolution  was  so  uni- 
versally and  readily  carried,  another  was  immediately  pro- 
posed— whether  it  were  not  possible  and  politic  to  exterminate 
Great  Britain?  upon  which  sixty-nine  members  spoke  most 
eloquently  in  the  afiirmative,  and  only  one  rose  to  suggest 
some  doubts— who,  as  a  punishment  for  his  treasonable  pre- 
sumption, was  immediately  seized  by  the  mob,  and  tarred  and 
feathered — which  punishment  being  equivalent  to  the  Tarpeian 
Rock,  he  was  af terwai-ds  considered  as  an  outcast  from  societ^^ 
and  liis  opinion  went  for  iiothmg.  The  question,  therefore, 
being  unanimously  carried  in  the  afiirmative,  it  was  rccom- 


278 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK 


mended  to  the  grand  council  to  pass  it  into  a  law;  which  was 
accordingly  done.— By  this  measure,  the  hearts  of  the  people 
at  large  were  wonderfully  encouraged,  and  they  waxed  exceed- 
ing choleric  and  valorous.  Indeed,  the  first  paroxysm  of 
alarm  having  in  some  measure  subsided ;  the  old  women  hav- 
ing buried  all  the  money  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  and 
their  husbands  daily  getting  fuddled  with  what  was  left— the 
community  began  even  to  stand  on  the  offensive.  Songs  were 
manufactured  in  Low  Dutch,  and  sung  about  the  streets, 
wherein  the  English  were  most  woefully  beaten,  and  shown  no 
quarter;  and  popular  addresses  were  made,  wherein  it  was 
proved  to  a  certainty  that  the  fate  of  Old  England  depended 
upon  the  will  of  New-Amsterdammers. 

Finally,  to  strike  a  violent  blow  at  the  very  vitals  of  Great 
Britain,  a  multitude  of  the  wiser  inhabitants  assembled,  and 
having  i3urchased  aU  the  British  manufactures  they  could  find, 
they  made  thereof  a  huge  bonfire ;  and  in  the  patriotic  glow  of 
the  moment,  every  man  present,  who  had  a  hat  or  breeches  of 
English  workmanship,  puUed  it  off,  and  threw  it  most  un- 
dauntedly into  the  flames— to  the  irreparable  detriment,  loss, 
and  ruin  of  the  English  manufacturers.  In  comm.emoration  of 
tliis  great  exploit,  they  erected  a  pole  on  the  spot,  with  a  de- 
vice on  the  top  intended  to  represent  the  province  of  Nieuw- 
Nederlandts  destroying  Great  Britain,  under  the  similitude  of 
an  eagle  picking  the  little  island  of  Old  England  out  of  the 
globe ;  but  either  through  the  miskiK ulness  of  the  sculptor,  or 
his  ill-timed  waggery,  it  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  a 
goose  vainly  striving  to  get  hold  of  a  dmnpling. 


CHAPTER  V, 

SHOWING  HOW  THE  GIIAND  COUNCIL  OF  THE  NEV/-NETHERLANI>^ 
CAME  TO  BE  MIRACULOUSLY  GIFTED  V/ITH  LONG  TONGUES- 
TOGETHER  WITH  A  GREAT  TRIUMPH  OP  ECONOMY. 

It  win  need  but  very  little  penetration  in  any  one  ac- 
quainted with  the  character  and  habits  of  that  most  potent 
and  blustering  monarch,  the  sovereign  people,  to  discover 
that,  notwithstanding  all  the  bustle  and  talk  of  war  that 
stunned  him  in  the  last  chapter,  the  renowned  city  of  New- 


A  HISTORY  OB'  NEW-YORK. 


270 


Amsterdam  is,  in  sad  reality,  not  a  whit  better  prepared  for 
defence  than  before.  Now,  though  the  people,  having  gotten 
over  the  first  alaiTn,  and  finding  no  enemy  immediately  at 
hand,  had,  with  that  valour  of  tongue  for  which  your  illustri- 
ous rabble  is  so  famous,  run  into  the  opposite  extreme,  and  by 
dint  of  gallant  vapouring  and  rodomontado,  had  actually- 
talked  themselves  into  the  opinion  that  they  were  the  bravest 
and  most  powerful  people  under  the  sun,  yet  were  the  privy 
counsellors  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  somewhat  dubious  on  that 
point.  They  dreaded  moi'eover  lest  that  stein  hero  should  re- 
turn, and  find,  that  instead  of  obeying  his  peremptory  orders, 
they  had  wasted  their  time  in  listening  to  the  hectorings  of  the 
mob,  than  which,  they  well  knew,  there  was  nothing  he  held 
in  more  exalted  contempt. 

To  make  up,  therefore,  as  speedily  as  possible,  for  lost  time, 
a  grand  divan  of  the  counsellors  and  burgomasters  was  con- 
vened, to  talk  over  the  critical  state  of  the  province,  and  de- 
vise measures  for  its  safety.  Two  things  were  unanimously 
agreed  upon  in  this  venerable  assembly: — first,  that  the  city 
required  to  be  put  in  a  state  of  defence ;  and,  secondly,  that  as 
the  danger  was  imminent,  there  should  be  no  time  lost — which 
points  being  settled,  they  immediately  fell  to  making  long 
speeches,  and  belabouring  one  another  in  endless  and  intem- 
perate disputes.  For  about  this  time  was  this  unhappy  city 
first  visited  by  that  talking  endemic,  so  universally  prevalent 
in  this  country,  and  which  so  invariably  evinces  itself  wher- 
ever a  nmnber  of  wise  men  assemble  together ;  breaking  out  in 
long,  windy  speeches,  caused,  as  physicians  suppose,  by  the 
foul  air  which  is  ever  generated  in  a  crowd.  Now  it  was,  more- 
over, that  they  first  introduced  the  ingenious  method  of  meas- 
uring the  merits  of  a  harangue  by  the  hour-glass;  he  being 
considered  the  ablest  orator  who  spoke  longest  on  a  question. 
For  which  excellent  invention,  it  is  recorded,  we  are  indebted 
to  the  same  profound  Dutch  critic  who  judged  of  books  by 
their  size. 

This  sudden  passion  for  endless  harangues,  so  Httle  con- 
sonant with  the  customary  gravity  and  taciturnity  of  our  sage 
forefathers,  was  supposed,  by  certain  learned  pliilosophers,  to 
have  been  imbibed,  together  with  divers  other  barbarous  pro- 
pensities, from  their  savage  neighbours;  who  were  pecuharly 
noted  for  their  long  talks  and  council  fires  —who  would  never 
undertake  any  affair  of  the  least  importance,  without  previous 
debates  and  harangues  among  their  chiefs  and  old  men.  But 


280 


A  HISTORY  OF  JSEW-70RK. 


the  real  cause  was,  that  the  people,  in  electing  their  represent- 
atives to  the  grand  council,  were  particular  in  choosing  them 
for  their  talents  at  talking,  without  inquiring  whether  they 
possessed  the  more  rare,  difficult,  andofttimes  important  talent 
of  holding  their  tongues.  The  consequence  was,  that  this  de- 
liberative body  was  composed  of  the  most  loquacious  men  in 
the  community.  As  they  considered  themselves  placed  there 
to  talk,  every  man  concluded  that  his  duty  to  his  constituents, 
and,  what  is  more,  his  popularity  with  them,  required  that  he 
should  harangue  on  every  subject,  whether  he  understood  it  or 
not.  There  was  an  ancient  mode  of  burying  a  chieftain,  by 
every  soldier  throwing  his  sliield  full  of  earth  on  the  corpse, 
until  a  mighty  mound  was  formed ;  so,  whenever  a  question 
was  brought  forward  in  this  assembly,  every  member  pressing 
forward  to  throw  on  his  quantum  of  wisdom,  the  subject  was 
quickly  buried  under  a  huge  mass  of  words. 

We  are  told,  that  when  disciples  were  admitted  into  the 
school  of  Pythagoras,  they  were  for  two  years  enjoined  silence, 
and  were  neither  permitted  to  ask  questions  nor  make  re- 
marks. After  they  had  thus  acquired  the  inestimable  art  of 
holding  their  tongues,  they  were  gradually  permitted  to  make 
inquiries,  and  finally  to  communicate  their  own  opinions. 

What  a  pity  is  it,  that,  while  superstitiously  hoarding  up 
the  rubbish  and  rags  of  antiquity,  we  should  suffer  these  pre- 
cious gems  to  lie  unnoticed!  What  a  beneficial  effect  would 
this  wise  regulation  of  Pythagoras  have,  if  introduced  in  leg- 
islative bodies — and  how  wonderfully  would  it  have  tended  to 
expedite  business  in  the  grand  council  of  the  Manhattoes ! 

Thus,  however,  did  dame  Wisdom,  (Avhom  the  wags  of 
antiquity  have  humorously  personified  as  a  woman,)  seem  to 
take  mischievous  pleasure  in  jilting  the  venerable  counsellor 
of  New- Amsterdam.  The  old  factions  of  Long  Pipes  and  Short 
Pipes,  v/hich  had  been  almost  strangled  by  the  herculean  grasp 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  now  sprung  up  with  tenfold  violence. 
Not  that  the  original  cause  of  difference  still  existed, — but,  it  has 
ever  been  the  fate  of  party  names  and  party  rancour  to  remain, 
long  after  the  principles  that  gave  rise  to  them  have  been  for- 
gotten. To  complete  the  pubhc  confusion  and  bewilderment, 
the  fatal  word  Economy,  Avhich  one  would  have  thought  was 
dead  and  buried  with  William  the  Testy,  was  once  more  set 
afloat,  like  the  apple  of  discord,  in  the  grand  council  of  Nieuw- 
Nederlandts— according  to  which  sound  principle  of  pohcy,  it 
was  deemed  more  expedient  to  throw  a^vay  twenty  thousand 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


281 


guilders  upon  an  inefl&cacious  plan  of  defence,  than  thirty 
thousand  on  a  good  and  substantial  one— the  province  thus 
mailing  a  clear  saving  of  ten  thousand  guilders. 

But  when  the^  came  to  discuss  the  mode  of  defence,  then  be- 
gan a  war  of  words  that  baffles  aU  description.  The  members 
being,  as  I  observed,  enlisted  in  opposite  parties,  were  enabled 
to  proceed  with  amazing  system  and  regularity  in  the  discus- 
sion of  the  questions  before  them.  Whatever  was  proposed 
by  a  Long  Pipe,  was  opposed  by  the  whole  tribe  of  Short 
Pipes,  who,  like  true  politicians,  considered  it  their  first  duty 
to  effect  the  downfall  of  the  Long  Pipes— their  second,  to  ele- 
vate themselves — and  their  third,  to  consult  the  welfare  of  the 
country.  This  at  least  was  the  creed  of  the  most  upright 
among  the  party ;  for  as  to  the  great  mass,  they  left  the  third 
consideration  out  of  the  question  altogether. 

In  this  great  collision  of  hard  heads,  it  is  astonishing  the 
number  of  projects  for  defence  that  were  struck  out,  not  one 
of  which  had  ever  been  heard  of  before,  nor  has  been  heard  of 
since,  unless  it  be  in  very  modern  days— projects  that  threw 
the  windmill  system  of  the  ingenious  Kieft  completely  in  the 
background.  StiU,  however,  nothing  could  be  decided  on ;  for 
so  soon  as  a  formidable  host  of  air  castles  were  reared  by  one 
party,  they  were  demolished  by  the  other.  The  simple  popu- 
lace stood  gazing  in  anxious  expectation  of  the  mighty  egg 
that  was  to  be  hatched  with  all  this  cackling ;  but  they  gazed  in 
vain,  for  it  appeared  that  the  grand  council  was  determined  to 
protect  the  province  as  did  the  noble  and  gigantic  Pantagruel 
his  army — by  covering  it  with  his  tongue. 

Indeed,  there  was  a  portion  of  the  members,  consisting  of 
fat,  self-important  old  burghers,  who  smoked  their  pipes  and 
said  nothing,  excepting  to  negative  every  plan  of  defence  that 
was  offered.  These  were  of  that  class  of  wealthy  old  citizens, 
who,  having  amassed  a  fortune,  button  up  their  pockets,  shut 
their  mouths,  look  rich,  and  are  good  for  nothing  all  the  rest 
of  their  lives.  Like  some  plilegmatic  oyster,  which,  having 
swallowed  a  pearl,  closes  its  shell,  settles  down  in  the  mud, 
and  parts  with  its  life  sooner  than  its  treasure.  Every  plan 
of  defence  seemed  to  these  worthy  old  gentlemen  pregnant 
with  ruin.  An  armed  force  was  a  legion  of  locusts,  preying 
upon  the  pubhc  property — to  fit  out  a  naval  armament,  was  to 
throw  their  money  into  the  sea — to  build  fortifications  was  to 
bury  it  in  the  dirt.  In  short,  they  settled  it  as  a  sovereign 
maxim,  so  long  as  their  pockets  were  full,  no  matter  how 


282 


A  mSTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


much  they  were  drubbed — a  kick  left  no  scar  —a  brok&u  Jiead 
cured  itseK— but  an  empty  purse  was  of  all  maladies  the 
slowest  to  heal,  and  one  in  which  natm^e  did  nothing  for  the 
patient. 

Thus  did  this  venerable  assembly  of  sages  lavish  away  that 
time  which  the  ui-gency  of  affairs  rendered  invaluable,  in 
empty  brawls  and  long-winded  speeches,  without  ever  agree- 
ing, except  on  the  point  with  which  they  started,  namely, 
that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  delay  was  ruinous.  At 
length  St.  Nicholas,  taking  compassion  on  their  distracted 
situation,  and  anxious  to  preserve  them  from  anarchy,  so 
ordered,  that  in  the  midst  of  one  of  their  most  noisy  debates 
on  the  subject  of  fortification  and  defence,  when  they  had 
nearly  fallen  to  loggerheads  in  consequence  of  not  being  able 
to  convince  each  other,  the  question  was  happily  settled  by  a 
messenger,  who  bounced  into  the  chamber  and  informed  them 
that  the  hostile  fleet  had  arrived,  and  was  actually  advancing 
up  the  bay ! 

Thus  was  all  farther  necessity  of  either  fortifying  or  disput- 
ing completely  obviated,  and  thus  was  the  grand  council  saved 
a  world  of  words,  and  the  province  a  world  of  expense— a 
most  absolute  and  glorious  triumph  of  economy ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  WHICH  THE  TROUBLES  OF  NEW-AMSTERDAM  APPEAR  TO 
THICKEN— SHOWING  THE  BRAVERY,  IN  TIME  OF  PERIL,  OF  A 
PEOPLE  WHO  DEFEND  THEMSELVES  BY  RESOLUTIONS. 

Like  as  an  assemblage  of  politic  cats,  engaged  in  clamorous 
gibberings,  and  caterwaulings,  eyeing  one  another  with  hide- 
ous grimaces,  spitting  in  each  other's  faces,  and  on  the  point  of 
breaking  forth  into  a  general  clapper-clawing,  are  suddenly 
put  to  scampering  rout  and  confusion  by  the  startling  appear- 
ance of  a  house-dog— so  was  the  no  less  vociferous  council  of 
New- Amsterdam  amazed,  astounded,  and  totally  dispersed  by 
the  sudden  arrival  of  the  enemy.  Every  member  made  the 
best  of  his  way  home,  waddhng  along  as  fast  as  his  short  legs 
could  fag  under  their  heavy  burden,  and  wheezing  as  he  went 
with  corpulency  and  terror.    When  he  arrived  at  his  castle, 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOEK 


283 


he  baxricadoed  the  street  door,  and  buried  himself  in  the  cider 
cellar,  without  daring  to  peep  out,  lest  he  should  have  his 
head  carried  off  by  a  cannon-ball. 

The  sovereign  people  all  crowded  into  the  market-place, 
herding  together  with  the  instinct  of  sheep,  who  seek  for 
safety  in  each  other's  company,  when  the  shepherd  and  his 
dog  are  absent,  and  the  wolf  is  prowling  round  the  -fold.  Far 
from  finding  relief,  however,  they  only  increased  each  other's 
terrors.  Each  man  looked  ruefully  in  his  neighbour's  face,  in 
search  of  encouragement,  but  only  found  in  its  woe-begone 
hneaments  a  confirmation  of  his  own  dismay.  Not  a  word 
now  was  to  be  heard  of  conquering  Great  Britain,  not  a  whis- 
per about  the  sovereign  virtues  of  economy— while  the  old 
women  heightened  the  general  gloom  by  clamorously  bewail- 
ing their  fate,  and  incessantly  calling  for  protection  on  Saint 
Nicholas  and  Peter  Stuyvesant. 

Oh,  how  did  they  bewail  the  absence  of  the  Uon-hearted 
Peter !— and  how  did  they  long  for  the  comforting  presence  of 
Antony  Van  Corlear!  Indeed,  a  gloomy  micertainty  hung 
over  the  fate  of  these  adventurous  heroes.  Day  after  day  had 
elapsed  since  the  alarming  message  from  the  governor,  with- 
out bringing  any  farther  tidings  of  his  safety.  Many  a  fearful 
conjecture  was  hazarded  as  to  what  had  befallen  him  and  his 
loyal  'squire.  Had  they  not  been  devoured  ahve  by  the  can- 
nibals of  Marblehead  and  Cape  Cod? — were  they  not  put  to 
the  question  by  the  great  council  of  Amphyctions?— were  they 
not  smothered  in  onions  by  the  terrible  men  of  Piquag? — In 
the  midst  of  this  consternation  and  perplexity,  when  horror, 
hke  a  mighty  nightmare,  sat  brooding  upon  the  httle  fat,  ple- 
thoric city  of  New- Amsterdam,  the  ears  of  the  multitude  were 
suddenly  startled  by  a  strange  and  distant  sound — it  ap- 
proached— it  grew  louder  and  louder — and  now  it  resounded  at 
the  city  gate.  The  pubhc  could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  weU- 
known  sound — a  shout  of  joy  burst  from  their  hps,  as  the  gal- 
lant Peter,  covered  with  dust,  and  followed  by  his  faithful 
trumpeter,  came  galloping  into  the  market-place. 

The  first  transports  of  the  populace  having  subsided,  they 
gathered  round  the  honest  Antony,  as  he  dismounted  from  his 
horse,  overwhelming  him  with  greetings  and  congratulations. 
In  breathless  accents  he  related  to  them  the  marvellous  adven- 
tures through  which  the  old  governor  and  himself  had  gone,  in 
making  their  escape  from  the  clutches  of  the  terrifble  Amphyc- 
tions.  But  though  the  Stuyvesant  manuscript,  with  its  cus- 


284 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW-TORK. 


tomary  minuteness,  where  anything  touching  the  great  Petei 
is  concerned,  is  very  particular  as  to  the  incidents  of  this  mas- 
terly retreat,  yet  the  particular  state  of  the  pubhc  affairs  will 
not  allow  me  to  indulge  in  a  full  recital  thereof.  Let  it  suffice 
to  say  that  while  Peter  Stuyvesant  was  anxiously  revolving  in 
his  mind  how  he  could  make  good  his  escape  with  honour  and 
dignity,  certain  of  the  ships  sent  out  for  the  conquest  of  the 
Manhattoes  touched  at  the  eastern  ports,  to  obtain  needful  sup- 
plies, and  to  call  oji  the  grand  council  of  the  league  for  its  pro- 
mised co-operation.  Upon  hearing  of  this,  the  vigilant  Peter, 
perceiving  that  a  moment's  delay  were  fatal,  made  a  secret 
and  precipitate  decampment,  though  much  did  it  grieve  his 
lofty  soul  to  be  obliged  to  turn  his  back  even  upon  a  nation  of 
foes.  Many  hair-breadth  'scapes  and  divers  perilous  mishaps 
did  they  sustain,  as  they  scoured,  without  sound  of  trumpet, 
through  the  fair  regions  of  the  east.  Already  was  the  country 
in  an  uproar  with  hostile  preparation,  and  they  were  obhged 
to  take  a  large  circuit  in  their  flight,  lurking  along  through  the 
woody  mountains  of  the  Devil's  Back-bone ;  from  whence  the 
valiant  Peter  saUied  forth  one  day,  like  a  lion,  and  put  to  rout 
a  whole  legion  of  squatters,  consisting  of  three  generations  of  a 
prolific  family,  who  were  already  on  their  way  to  take  posses- 
sion of  some  corner  of  the  New-Netherlands.  Nay,  the  faithful 
Antony  had  great  difficulty  at  sundry  times  to  prevent  him, 
in  the  excess  of  his  wrath,  from  descending  down  from  the 
mountains,  and  falhng,  sword  in  hand,  upon  certain  of  the 
border  towns,  who  were  marshalling  forth  their  draggletailed 
militia. 

The  first  movements  of  the  governor,  on  reaching  his  dwell- 
ing, was  to  mount  the  roof,  from  whence  he  contemplated, 
with  rueful  aspect,  the  hostile  squadron.  This  had  already 
come  to  anchor  in  the  bay,  and  consisted  of  two  stout  frigates, 
having  on  board,  as  John  Josselyn,  Gent.,  informs  us,  ''three 
hundred  vahant  red-coats."  Having  taken  this  survey,  he 
sat  himself  down,  and  wrote  an  epistle  to  the  commander, 
demanding  the  reason  of  his  anchoring  in  the  harbour  without 
obtaining  previous  permission  so  to  do.  This  letter  was 
couched  in  the  most  dignified  and  courteous  terms,  though  I 
have  it  from  undoubted  authority,  that  his  teeth  were  clinched, 
and  he  had  a  bitter  sardonic  grin  upon  his  visage  all  the  while 
he  wrote.  Having  despatched  his  letter,  the  grim  Peter 
stumped  to  and  fro  about  the  town,  with  a  most  war-betoken- 
ing countenance,  his  hands  thrust  into  his  breeches  pockets, 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW- YORK.  285 

and  whistling  a  Low  Dutch  psahn  tune,  which  bore  no  small 
resemblance  to  the  music  of  a  north-east  wind,  when  a  storm 
is  brewing.  The  very  dogs,  as  they  eyed  him,  skulked  away 
in  dismay— while  all  the  old  and  ugly  women  of  New- Amster- 
dam ran  howling  at  his  heels,  imploring  him  to  save  them  from 
murder,  robbery,  and  pitiless  ravishment ! 

The  reply  of  Col.  Nichols,  who  commanded  the  invaders,  was 
couched  in  terms  of  equal  courtesy  with  the  letter  of  the  gov- 
ernor— declaring  the  right  and  title  of  his  British  Majesty  to 
the  province,  where  he  affirmed  the  Dutch  to  be  mere  interlop- 
ers; and  demanding  that  the  town,  forts,  etc.,  should  be  forth- 
with rendered  into  his  majesty's  obedience  and  protection — 
promising  at  the  same  tune,  life,  liberty,  estate,  and  free  trade, 
to  every  Dutch  denizen  who  should  readily  submit  to  liis 
majesty's  government. 

Peter  Stuyvesant  read  over  this  friendly  epistle  with  some 
such  harmony  of  aspect  as  we  may  suppose  a  crusty  farmer, 
who  has  long  been  fattening  upon  his  neighbour's  soil,  reads 
the  loving  letter  of  John  Stiles,  that  warns  him  of  an  action  of 
ejectment.  The  old  governor,  however,  was  not  to  be  taken 
by  surprise,  but  thrusting  the  summons  into  his  breeches  pocket, 
he  stalked  three  times  across  the  room,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff 
with  great  vehemence,  and  then  loftily  waving  his  hand, 
promised  to  send  an  answer  the  next  morning.  In  the  mean- 
time, he  called  a  general  council  of  war  of  his  privy  counsellors 
and  burgomasters,  not  for  the  purpose  of  asking  theii*  advice, 
for  that,  as  has  already  been  shown,  he  valued  not  a  rush ;  but 
to  make  known  unto  them  his  sovereign  determination,  and 
require  their  prompt  adherence. 

Before,  however,  he  convened  his  council,  he  resolved  upon 
three  important  points :  first,  never  to  give  up  the  city  without 
a  little  hard  fighting,  for  he  deemed  it  highly  derogatory  to  the 
dignity  of  so  renowned  a  city  to  suffer  itself  to  be  captured 
and  stripped,  without  receiving  a  few  kicks  into  the  bargam 
— secondly,  that  the  majority  of  his  grand  council  was  com- 
posed of  arrant  poltroons,  utterly  destitute  of  true  bottom— 
and,  thirdly,  that  he  would  not  therefore  suffer  them  to  see  the 
summons  of  Col.  Nichols  lest  the  easy  terms  it  held  out  might 
induce  them  to  clamour  for  a  surrender. 

His  orders  being  duly  promulgated,  it  was  a  piteous  sight  to 
behold  the  late  valiant  burgomasters,  who  had  demolished  the 
whole  British  empire  in  their  harangues,  peeping  ruefully  out 
of  their  hiding-places,  and  then  crawling  cautiously  forth; 


286 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORR. 


dodging  through  narrow  lanes  and  alleys;  starting  at  every 
little  dog  that  barked,  as  though  it  had  been  a  discharge  of 
artillery — mistaking  lamp-posts  for  British  grenadiers,  and,  in 
the  excess  of  their  panic,  metamorphosing  pumps  into  for- 
midable soldiers,  levelling  blunderbusses  at  their  bosoms! 
Having,  however,  in  despite  of  numerous  perils  and  difficulties 
of  the  kind,  arrived  safe,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man,  at 
the  hall  of  assembly,  they  took  their  seats,  and  awaited  in  fear- 
ful silence  the  arrival  of  the  governor.  In  a  few  moments  the 
wooden  leg  of  the  intrepid  Peter  was  heard  in  regular  and 
stout-hearted  thumps  upon  the  staircase.  He  entered  the 
chamber  arrayed  in  a  full  suit  of  regimentals,  and  carrying  his 
trusty  toledo,  not  girded  on  his  thigh,  but  tucked  under  his 
arm.  As  the  governor  never  equipped  himself  in  this  porten- 
tous manner,  unless  something  of  a  martial  nature  were  work- 
ing within  his  fearless  pericranium,  his  council  regarded  him 
ruefully,  as  if  they  saw  fire  and  sword  in  his  iron  countenance, 
and  forgot  to  light  their  pipes  in  breathless  suspense. 

The  great  Peter  was  as  eloquent  as  he  was  valorous— indeed, 
these  two  rare  qualities  seemed  to  go  hand  in  hand  in  his  com- 
position; and,  unlike  most  great  statesmen,  whose  victories 
are  only  confined  to  the  bloodless  field  of  argument,  he  was 
always  ready  to  enforce  his  hardy  words  by  no  less  hardy 
deeds.  His  speeches  were  generally  marked  by  a  simplicity 
approaching  to  bluntness,  and  by  a  truly  categorical  decision. 
Addressing  the  grand  council,  he  touched  briefly  upon  the 
perils  and  hardships  he  had  sustained  in  escaping  from  his 
crafty  foes.  He  next  reproached  the  council  for  wasting,  in 
idle  debate  and  party  feuds,  that  time  which  should  have  been 
devoted  to  their  country.  He  was  particularly  indignant  at 
those  brawlers,  who,  conscious  of  individual  security,  had  dis- 
graced the  councils  of  the  province  by  impotent  hectorings  and 
scurrilous  invectives,  against  a  noble  and  powerful  enemy — 
those  cowardly  curs,  who  were  incessant  in  their  barkings  and 
yelpings  at  the  lion,  while  distant  or  asleep,  but  the  moment  he 
approached,  were  the  first  to  skulk  away.  He  now  called  on 
those  who  had  been  so  valiant  in  their  threats  against  Great 
Britain,  to  stand  forth,  and  support  their  vauntings  by  their 
actions— for  it  was  deeds,  not  words,  that  bespoke  the  spirit  of 
a  nation.  He  proceeded  to  recall  the  golden  days  of  former 
prosperity,  which  were  only  to  be  regained  by  manfully  with- 
standing their  enemies;  for  the  peace,  he  observed,  which  is 
effected  by  force  of  arms,  is  always  more  sure  and  durable 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


287 


tlian  that  which  is  patched  up  by  temporary  accommodations. 

He  endeavoured,  moreover,  to  arouse  their  martial  fire,  by  re- 
minding them  of  the  time  when,  before  the  frowning  walls  of 
Fort  Christina,  he  had  led  them  on  to  victory.  He  strove  like- 
wise to  awaken  their  confidence,  by  assuring  them-  of  the  pro- 
tection of  St.  Nicholas,  who  had  hitherto  maintained  them  in 
safety,  amid  all  the  savages  of  the  wilderness,  the  witches  and 
squatters  of  the  east,  and  the  giants  of  Merry -land.  Finally, 
he  informed  them  of  the  insolent  suromons  he  had  received  to 
surrender,  but  concluded  by  swearing  to  defend  the  province 
as  long  as  Heaven  was  on  his  side,  and  he  had  a  wooden  leg  to 
stand  upon— which  noble  sentence  he  emphasized  by  a  tremen- 
dous thwack  with  the  broadside  of  his  sword  upon  the  table, 
that  totally  electrified  his  auditors. 

The  privy  counsellors,  who  had  long  been  accustomed  to  the 
governor's  way,  and  in  fa(;t  had  been  brought  into  as  perfect 
discipline  as  were  ever  the  soldiers  of  the  great  Frederick,  saw 
that  there  was  no  use  in  saying  a  word— so  lighted  their  pipes 
and  smoked  away  in  silence  like  fat  and  discreet  counsellors. 
But  the  burgomasters,  being  less  under  the  governor's  control, 
considering  themselves  as  representatives  of  the  sovereign 
people,  and  being  moreover  inflamed  with  considerable  import- 
ance and  self-sufficiency,  which  they  had  acquired  at  those 
notable  schools  of  wisdom  and  morality,  the  popular  meetings, 
were  not  so  easily  satisfied.  Mustering  up  fresh  spirit,  when 
they  found  there  was  some  chance  of  escaping  from  their 
present  jeopardy  without  the  disagreeable  alternative  of  fight- 
ing, they  requested  a  copy  of  the  summons  to  surrender, 
that  they  might  show  it  to  a  general  meeting  of  the  people. 

So  insolent  and  mutinous  a  request  would  have  been  enough 
to  have  roused  the  gorge  of  the  tranquil  Van  T wilier  himse]f — 
what,  then,  must  have  been  its  effect  upon  the  great  Stuy- 
vesant,  who  was  not  only  a  Dutchman,  a  governor,  and  a 
valiant  wooden-legged  soldier  to  boot,  but  withal  a  man  of  the 
most  stomachful  and  gunpowder  disposition?  He  burst  fortli 
into  a  blaze  of  noble  indignation, — swore  not  a  mother's  son  of 
them  should  see  a  syllable  of  it— that  they  deserved,  every  one 
of  them,  to  be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered,  for  traitorously 
daring  to  question  the  infalhbility  of  government— that  as  to 
their  advice  or  concurrence,  he  did  not  care  a  whiff  of  tobacco 
for  either— that  he  had  long  been  harassed  and  thwarted  by 
their  cowardly  counsels;  but  that  they  might  thencefoith  go 
home,  and  go  to  bed  like  old  women ;  for  he  was  determined  to 


288 


A  BISTORT  OF  NEW-YORK 


defend  the  colony  himself,  without  the  assistance  of  them  or 
their  adherents.  So  saying,  he  tucked  his  sword  under  his 
arm,  cocked  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and  girding  up  his  loins, 
stumped  indignantly  out  of  the  council  chamber — every  body 
making  room  for  him  as  he  passed. 

No  sooner  had  he  gone,  than  the  busy  burgomasters  called 
a  public  meeting  in  front  of  the  Stadt-house,^  where  they 
appointed  as  chairman  one  Dofue  Roerback,  a  mighty  ginger- 
bread-baker in  the  land  and  formerly  of  the  cabinet  of  William 
the  Testy.  He  was  looked  up  to  with  great  reverence  by  the 
populace,  who  considered  him  a  man  of  dark  knowledge,  seeing 
he  was  the  first  that  imprinted  new-year  cakes  with  the  mys- 
terious hieroglyphics  of  the  Cock  and  Breeches,  and  such  like 
magical  devices. 

This  great  burgomaster,  who  still  chewed  the  cud  of  ill-will 
against  the  valiant  Stuy  vesant,  in  consequence  of  having  been 
ignominiously  kicked  out  of  his  cabinet  at  the  time  of  his 
taking  the  reins  of  government — addressed  the  greasy  multi- 
tude in  what  is  called  a  patriotic  speech,  in  which  he  informed 
them  of  the  courteous  summons  to  surrender— of  the  gover- 
nor's refusal  to  comply  therewith— of  his  denying  the  public 
a  sight  of  the  summons,  which,  he  had  no  doubt,  contained 
conditions  highly  to  the  honour  and  a.dvanta.ge  of  the  pro- 
vince. 

He  then  proceeded  to  speak  of  his  excellency  in  high-sound- 
ing terms,  suitable  to  the  dignity  and  grandeur  of  his  station, 
comparing  him  to  Nero,  Caligula,  and  those  other  great  men  of 
yore,  who  are  generally  quoted  by  popular  orators  on  similar 
occasions ;  assuring  the  people  that  the  history  of  the  world 
did  not  contain  a  despotic  outrage  to  equal  the  present  for 
atrocity,  cruelty,  tyranny,  and  bloodthirstiness — that  it  would 
be  recorded  in  letters  of  fire,  on  the  blood-stained  tablet  of 
history !  that  ages  would  roll  back  v>dth  sudden  horror  when 
they  came  to  view  it !  that  the  womb  of  time — (by  the  way, 
your  orators  and  writers  take  strange  liberties  with  the  womb 
jjof  time,  though  some  would  fain  have  us  believe  that  time  is 
an  old  gentleman) — that  the  womb  of  time,  pregnant  as  it  was 
with  direful  horrors,  would  never  produce  a  parallel  enormity ! 
— With  a  variety  of  other  1-weart-rending,  soul-stirring  tropes 
and  figures,  which  I  cannot  enumerate— neither,  indeed,  need 
I,  for  they  were  exactly  the  same  that  are  used  in  all  popular 
harangues  and  patriotic  orations  at  the  present  day,  and  may 
be  classed  in  rhetoric  under  the  general  title  of  Rigmarole. 


A  niSTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


2S9 


The  speech  of  this  inspired  burgomaster  being  finished,  the 
meeting  fell  into  a  kind  of  popular  fermentation,  which  pro- 
duced not  only  a  string  of  right  wise  resolutions,  but  likewise 
a  most  resolute  memorial,  addressed  to  the  governor,  remon- 
strating at  his  conduct— which  was  no  sooner  handed  to  him, 
than  he  handed  it  into  the  fire ;  and  thus  deprived  posterity  of 
an  invaluable  document,  that  might  have  served  as  a  pre- 
cedent to  the  enlightened  cobblers  and  tailors  of  the  present 
day,  in  their  sage  intermeddlings  with  politics. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CONTAINING  A  DOLEFUL  DISASTER  OF  ANTONY  THE  TRUMPETER 
—AND  HOW  PETER  STUYVESANT,  LIKE  A  SECOND  CROMWELL, 
SUDDENLY  DISSOLVED  A  RIBIP  PARLIAMENT. 

Now  did  the  high-minded  Pieter  de  Groodt  shower  down  a 
pannier-load  of  benedictions  upon  his  burgomasters,  for  a  set 
of  self-willed,  obstinate,  headstrong  varlets,  who  would  neither 
be  convinced  nor  persuaded;  and  determined  thenceforth  to 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  them,  but  to  consult  merely  the 
opinion  of  his  privy  counsellors,  which  he  knew  from  expe- 
rience to  be  the  best  in  the  world— inasmuch  as  it  never 
differed  from  his  own.  Nor  did  he  omit,  now  that  his  hand 
was  in,  to  bestovf  some  thousand  left-handed  compHments 
upon  the  sovereign  people ;  whom  he  railed  at  for  a  herd  of 
poltroons,  who  had  no  relish  for  the  glorious  hardships  and 
illustrious  misadventures  of  battle— but  would  rather  stay  at 
home,  and  eat  and  sleep  in  ignoble  ease,  than  gain  immortahty 
and  a  broken  head  by  valiantly  fighting  in  a  ditch. 

Resolutely  bent,  however,  upon  defending  his  beloved  city, 
in  despite  even  of  itself,  he  called  unto  him  his  trusty  Van 
Corlear,  who  was  his  right-hand  man  in  all  times  of  emer- 
gency. Him  did  he  adjure  to  take  his  war-denouncing 
trumpet,  and  mounting  his  horse,  to  beat  up  the  country, 
night  and  day.  Sounding  the  alarm  along  the  pastoral  bor- 
ders of  the  Bronx — starting  the  wild  solitudes  of  Croton— 
ai'ousing  the  mgged  yeomanry  of  Weehawk  and  Hoboeken— 
the  mighty  men  of  battle  of  Tappan  Bay  * — and  the  brave  boys 


*  A  corruption  of  Top-paun ;  so  called  from  a  tribe  of  Indians  which  boasted  a 
hundred  and  fifty  fighting  men.   See  OjfiJby's  History. 


290 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TOEK 


of  Tarry  Town  and  Sleepy  Hollow — ^together  with  all  the  othei 
warriors  of  the  country  round  about ;  charging  them  one  and 
all  to  sling  their  powder-horns,  shoulder  their  fowling-pieces, 
and  march  merrily  down  to  the  Manhattoes. 

Now  there  was  nothing  in  all  the  world,  the  divine  sex  ex- 
cepted, that  Antony  Van  Corlear  loved  better  than  errands  ol 
this  kind.  So,  just  stopping  to  take  a  lusty  dinner,  and  brac- 
ing to  his  side  his  junk  bottle,  well  charged  with  heart-inspir- 
ing Hollands,  he  issued  jolhly  from  the  city  gate,  that  looked 
out  upon  what  is  at  present  called  Broadway;  sounding  as 
usual  a  farewell  strain,  that  rung  in  sprightly  echoes  through 
the  winding  streets  of  New- Amsterdam. — Alas!  never  more 
were  they  to  be  gladdened  by  the  melody  of  their  favourite 
trumpeter ! 

It  was  a  dark  and  stormy  night,  when  the  good  Antony  ar- 
rived at  the  famous  creek  (sagely  denominated  Haerlem  river) 
which  separates  the  island  of  Manna-hata  from  the  main  land. 
The  wind  was  high,  the  elements  were  in  an  uproar,  and  no 
Charon  could  be  found  to  ferry  the  adventurous  sounder  of 
brass  across  the  water.  For  a  short  time  he  vapoured  like  an 
impatient  ghost  upon  the  brink,  and  then,  bethinking  himself 
of  the  urgency  of  his  errand,  took  a  hearty  embrace  of  his 
stone  bottle,  swore  most  valorously  that  he  would  swim  across, 
en  spijt  den  Duyvel,  (in  spite  of  the  devil!)  a,nd  daringly 
plunged  into  the  stream. — Luckless  Antony!  scarce  had  he 
buffeted  half-way  over,  when  he  was  observed  to  struggle  vio- 
lently, as  if  battling  with  the  spirit  of  the  waters — instinctively 
he  put  his  trumpet  to  his  mouth,  and  giving  a  vehement  blast 
sunk  for  ever  to  the  bottom ! 

The  potent  clangour  of  his  trumpet,  like  the  ivory  horn  of 
the  renowned  Paladin  Orlando,  when  expiring  on  the  glorious 
field  of  Eoncesvalles,  rung  far  and  wide  through  the  country, 
alarming  the  neighbours  roimd,  who  hurried  in  amazement  to 
the  spot.  Here  an  old  Dutch  burgher,  famed  for  his  veracity, 
and  who  had  been  a  witness  of  the  fact,  related  to  them  the 
melancholy  affair;  with  the  fearful  addition  (to  which  I  am 
slow  of  giving  belief)  that  he  saw  the  duyvel,  in  the  shape  of  a 
huge  moss-bonker,  seize  the  sturdy  Antony  by  the  leg,  and 
drag  him  beneath  the  waves.  Certain  it  is,  the  place,  with  the 
adjoining  promontory,  which  projects  into  the  Hudson,  haa 
been  called  Spijt  den  duyvel,  or  Spiking  Devil,  ever  since ; — the 
restless  ghost  of  the  unfortunate  Antony  still  haunts  the  sur- 
rounding soHtudes,  and  bis  trumpet  has  often  been  heard  by 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


291 


the  neighbours,  of  a  stormy  night,  mingHng  with  the  howling 
of  the  blast.  Nobody  ever  attempts  to  swim  over  the  creek, 
after  dark ;  on  the  contrary,  a  bridge  has  been  built,  to  guard 
against  such  melancholy  accidents  in  future — and  as  to  moss- 
bonkers,  they  are  held  in  such  abhorrence,  that  no  true  Dutch- 
man will  admit  them  to  his  table,  who  loves  good  fish  and  hates 
the  devil. 

Such  was  the  end  of  Antony  Van  Corlear — a  man  deserving 
of  a  better  fate.  He  hved  roundly  and  soundly,  hke  a  true  and 
jolly  bachelor,  until  the  day  of  his  death ;  but  though  he  was 
never  married,  yet  did  he  leave  behind  some  two  or  three 
dozen  children,  in  different  parts  of  the  country— fine,  chubby, 
brawUng,  flatulent  httle  urchins,  from  whom,  if  legends  speak 
true,  (and  they  are  not  apt  to  lie,)  did  descend  the  innumerable 
race  of  editors  who  people  and  defend  this  country,  and  who 
are  bountifully  paid  by  the  people  for  keeping  up  a  constant 
alarm — and  making  them  miserable.  Would  that  they  in- 
herited the  worth,  as  they  do  the  wind,  of  their  renowned  pro- 
genitor ! 

The  tidings  of  this  lamentable  catastrophe  imparted  a  severer 
pang  to  the  bosom  of  Peter  Stuy vesant  than  did  even  the  inva- 
sion of  his  beloved  Amsterdam.  It  came  ruthlessly  home  to 
those  sweet  affections  that  grow  close  around  the  heart,  and 
are  nourished  by  its  warmest  current.  As  some  lorn  pilgi^im, 
while  the  tempest  whistles  through  his  locks,  and  dreary  night 
is  gathering  around,  sees  stretched,  cold  and  lifeless,  his  faith- 
ful dog— the  sole  companion  of  his  journeying,  who  had  shared 
his  solitary  meal,  and  so  often  hcked  his  hand  in  humble  grati- 
tude— so  did  the  generous-hearted  hero  of  the  Manhattoes  con- 
template the  untimely  end  of  his  faithful  Antony.  He  had 
been  the  humble  attendant  of  his  footsteps— he  had  cheered 
him  in  many  a  heavy  hour  by  his  honest  gayety,  and  had  fol- 
lowed him  in  loyalty  and  affection  through  many  a  scene  of 
direful  peril  and  mishap ;  he  was  gone  for  ever — and  that,  too. 
at  a  moment  when  every  mongrel  cur  seemed  skulking  from 
his  side.  This — Peter  Stuy  vesant— this  was  the  moment  to  try 
thy  fortitude ;  and  this  was  the  moment  when  thou  didst  in- 
deed shine  forth— Peter  the  Headstrong  ! 

The  glare  of  day  had  long  dispelled  the  horrors  of  the  last 
stormy  night :  still  all  was  dull  and  gloomy.  The  late  jovial 
Apollo  hid  his  face  behind  lugubrious  clouds,  peeping  out  now 
and  then,  for  an  instant,  as  if  anxious,  yet  fearful,  to  see  what 
was  going  on  in  his  favourite  city.    This  was  the  eventful 


292 


A  UISrORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


morning  when  the  great  Peter  was  to  give  his  reply  to  the 
summons  of  the  invaders.  Already  was  he  closeted  with  his 
privy  council,  sitting  in  grim  state,  brooding  over  the  fate  of 
his  favourite  trumpeter,  and  anon  boiling  with  indignation  as 
the  insolence  of  his  recreant  burgomas^/ers  flashed  upon  his 
mind.  While  in  this  state  of  irritation,  a  courier  arrived  in 
all  haste  from  Wintlirop,  the  subtle  governor  of  Connecticut, 
counselling  him  in  the  most  affectionate  and  disinterested 
manner  to  surrender  the  province,  and  magnifying  the  dan- 
gers and  calamities  to  which  a  refusal  would  subject  him. 
What  a  moment  was  this  to  mtrude  officious  advice  upon 
a  man  who  never  took  advice  in  his  whole  life!— The  fiery 
old  governor  strode  up  and  down  the  chamber,  with  a  vehe- 
mence that  made  the  bosoms  of  his  counsellors  to  quake  with 
awe— railing  at  his  unlucky  fate,  that  thus  made  him  the  con- 
stant butt  of  factious  subjects  and  jesuitical  advisers. 

Just  at  this  ill-chosen  juncture,  the  ofiicious  burgomasters, 
who  were  now  completely  on  the  watch,  and  had  heard  of  the 
arrival  of  mysterious  despatches,  came  marching  in  a  resolute 
body  into  the  room,  with  a  legion  of  schepens  and  toad-eaters 
at  their  heels,  and  abruptly  demanded  a  perusal  of  the  letter. 
Thus  to  be  broken  in  upon  by  what  he  esteemed  a  ' '  rascal  rab- 
ble," and  that,  too,  at  the  very  moment  he  was  grinding  under 
an  irritation  from  abroad,  was  too  much  for  the  spleen  of  the 
choleric  Peter.  He  tore  the  letter  in  a  thousand  pieces  *—  threw 
it  in  the  face  of  the  nearest  burgomaster— broke  his  pipe  over 
the  head  of  the  next— hurled  his  spitting-box  at  an  unlucky 
schepen,  who  was  just  making  a  masterly  retreat  out  at  the 
door,  and  finally  prorogued  the  whole  meeting  sine  die,  by 
kicking  them  down-stairs  with  his  wooden  leg. 

As  soon  as  the  burgomasters  could  recover  from  the  con- 
fusion into  which  their  sudden  exit  had  thrown  them,  and  had 
taken  a  little  time  to  breathe,  they  protested  against  the  con- 
duct of  the  governor,  which  they  did  not  hesitate  to  pronounce 
tyrannical,  unconstitutional,  highly  indecent,  and  somewhat 
disrespectful.  They  then  called  a  public  meeting,  where  they 
read  the  protest,  and  addressing  the  assembly  in  a  set  speech, 
related  at  full  length,  and  with  appropriate  colouring  and  ex- 
aggeration, the  despotic  and  vindictive  deportment  of  the 
governor;  declaring  that,  for  their  own  parts,  they  did  not 
value  a  straw  the  being  kicked,  cuffed,  and  mauled  by  the 


*  Smiili's  History  of  New  York. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORE. 


293 


timber  toe  of  his  excellency,  but  they  felt  for  the  dignity  of  the 
sovereign  people,  thus  rudely  insulted  by  the  outrage  com- 
mitted on  the  seat  of  honour  of  their  representatives.  The 
latter  part  of  the  harangue  had  a  violent  effect  upon  the  sensi- 
bility of  the  people,  as  it  came  home  at  once  to  tliJifc  delicacy 
of  feeling  and  jealous  pride  of  character,  vested  in  all  true 
mobs;  who,  though  they  may  bear  injuries  without  a  murmur, 
yet  are  marvellously  jealous  of  their  sovereign  dignity— and 
there  is  no  knowing  to  what  act  of  resentment  they  might  have 
been  provoked  against  the  redoubtable  Peter,  had  not  the 
greasy  rogues  been  somewhat  more  afraid  of  their  sturdy  old 
governor,  than  they  were  of  St.  Nicholas,  the  English— or  the 
I)  1  himself. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  PETER  STUYVESANT  DEFENDED  THE  CITY  OP  NEW  AMSTER- 
DAM, FOR  SEVERAL  DAYS,  BY  DINT  OF  THE  STRENGTH  OF  HIS 
HEAD. 

There  is  something  exceedingly  sublime  and  melancholy  in 
the  spectacle  which  the  present  crisis  of  our  history  presents. 
An  illustrious  and  venerable  little  city — the  metropohs  of  an 
immense  extent  of  uninhabited  country  —  garrisoned  by  a 
doughty  host  of  orators,  chairmen,  committee-men,  burgo- 
masters, schepens,  and  old  women — ^governed  by  a  determined 
and  strong-headed  warrior,  and  fortified  by  mud  batteries, 
palisadoes,  and  resolutions— blockaded  by  sea,  beleaguered  by 
land,  and  threatened  with  direful  desolation  from  without; 
while  its  very  vitals  are  torn  with  internal  faction  and  com- 
motion !  Never  did  historic  pen  record  a  page  of  more  compli- 
cated distress,  unless  it  be  the  strife  that  distracted  the 
Israehtes  during  the  siege  of  Jerusalem — where  discordant 
parties  were  cutting  each  other's  throats,  at  the  moment  when 
the  victorious  legions  of  Titus  had  toppled  down  their  bul- 
warks, and  were  carrying  fire  and  sword  into  the  very  sanctum 
sanctorum  of  the  temple. 

Governor  Stuyvesant,  having  triumphantly,  as  has  been 
recorded,  put  his  grand  council  to  the  rout,  and  thus  delivered 
himself  from  a  multitude  of  impertinent  advisers,  despatched 
a  categorical  reply  to  the  commanders  of  the  invading  squad- 


294 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


ron;  wherein  he  asserted  the  right  and  title  of  their  High 
Mightinesses,  the  Lord  States  General  to  the  province  of  New- 
Netherlands,  and,  trusting  in  the  righteousness  of  his  cause, 
set  the  whole  British  nation  at  defiance  1  My  anxiety  to  ex- 
tricate my  readers  and  mj^self  from  these  disastrous  scenes, 
prevents  me  from  giving  the  whole  of  this  gallant  letter,  which 
concluded  in  these  manly  and  affectionate  terms : 

"  As  touching  the  threats  in  your  conclusion,  we  have  noth^ 
ing  to  answer,  only  that  we  fear  nothing  but  what  God  (who  is 
as  just  as  merciful)  shall  lay  upon  us ;  all  things  being  in  His 
gracious  disposal,  and  we  may  as  well  be  preserved  by  him 
■svith  small  forces,  as  by  a  great  army ;  which  makes  us  to  wish 
you  all  happiness  and  prosperity,  and  recommend  you  to  his 
protection.— My  lords,  your  thrice  hmnble  and  affectionate 
servant  and  friend,  P.  Stuyvesant." 

Thus  having  resolutely  thrown  his  gauntlet,  the  brave  Peter 
stuck  a  pair  of  horse-pistols  in  his  belt,  girded  an  immense 
powder-horn  on  his  side — thrust  a  sound  leg  into  a  Hessian 
boot,  and  clapping  his  fierce  little  war  hat  on  the  top  of  his 
head — paraded  up  and  down  in  front  of  his  house,  determined 
to  defend  his  beloved  city  to  the  last. 

While  all  these  woiul  struggles  and  dissensions  were  prevail- 
ing in  the  unhappy  city  of  New-Amsterdam,  and  while  its 
worthy,  but  ill-starred  governor  was  framing  the  above-quoted 
letter,  the  English  commanders  did  not  remain  idle.  They 
had  agents  secretly  employed  to  foment  the  fears  and  clamours 
of  the  populace;  and  moreover  circulated  far  and  wide, 
through  the  adjacent  country,  a  proclamation,  repeacing  the 
terms  they  had  already  held  out  in  their  summons  to  sur- 
render, and  beguihng  the  simple  Nederlandei*s  with  the  most 
crafty  and  conciliating  professions.  They  promised  that  every 
man  who  voluntarily  submitted  to  the  authority  of  his  British 
Majesty,  should  retain  peaceable  possession  of  his  house,  his 
vrouw,  and  his  cabbage-garden.  That  he  should  be  suffered  to 
smoke  liis  pipe,  speak  Dutch,  wear  as  many  breeches  as  he 
pleased,  and  import  bricks,  tiles,  and  stone  jugs  from  Holland, 
instead  of  manufacturing  them  on  the  spot.  That  he  should 
on  no  account  be  compelled  to  learn  the  EngHsh  language,  or 
keep  accounts  in  any  other  way  than  by  casting  them  upon  his 
fingers,  and  chalking  them  down  upon  the  crown  of  his  hat; 
as  is  still  observed  among  the  Dutch  yeomanry  at  the  present 
day.    That  every  man  should  be  allowed  quietly  to  inherit  his 


A  IU8T0RT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


295 


father's  hat,  coat,  shoe-buckles,  pipe,  and  every  other  personal 
appendage,  and  that  no  man  should  be  obliged  to  conform  to 
any  improvements,  inventions,  or  any  other  modern  innova- 
tions; but,  on  the  contrary,  should  be  permitted  to  build  his 
house,  follow  his  trade,  manage  his  farm,  rear  his  hogs,  and 
educate  his  children,  precisely  as  his  ancestors  did  before  him 
since  time  immemorial.  Finally,  that  he  should  have  all  the 
benefits  of  free  trade,  and  should  not  be  required  to  acknow- 
ledge any  other  saint  in  the  calendar  than  St.  Nicholas,  who 
should  thenceforward,  as  before,  be  considered  the  tutelar  saint 
of  the  city. 

These  terms,  as  may  be  supposed,  appeared  very  satisfactory 
to  the  people,  who  had  a  great  disposition  to  enjoy  their  prop- 
erty unmolested,  and  a  most  singular  aversion  to  engage  in  a 
contest  where  they  could  gain  little  more  than  honour  and 
broken  heads — the  first  of  which  they  held  in  philosophic 
indifference,  the  latter  in  utter  detestation.  By  these  insidious 
means,  therefore,  did  the  Enghsh  succeed  in  alienating  the 
confidence  and  affections  of  the  populace  from  their  gallant 
old  governor,  whom  they  considered  as  obstinately  bent  upon 
running  them  into  hideous  misadventures ;  and  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  speak  their  minds  freely,  and  abuse  him  most  heartily —  * 
behind  his  back. 

Like  as  a  mighty  grampus,  who,  though  assailed  and 
buffeted  by  roaring  waves  and  brawling  surges,  still  keeps  on 
an  undeviating  course ;  and  though  overwhelmed  by  boisterous 
billows,  still  emerges  from  the  troubled  deep,  spouting  and 
blowing  with  tenfold  violence — so  did  the  inflexible  Peter 
pursue,  unwavering,  his  determined  career,  and  rise,  con- 
temptuous, above  the  clamours  of  the  rabble. 

But  when  the  British  warriors  found,  by  the  tenor  of  his 
reply,  that  he  set  their  power  at  defiance,  they  forthwith 
despatched  recruiting  officers  to  Jamaica,  and  Jericho,  and 
Nineveh,  and  Quag,  and  Patchog,  and  all  those  towns  on  Long 
Island  which  had  been  subdued  of  yore  by  the  immortal 
Stoffel  Brinkerhoff ,  stiriTtig  up  the  valiant  progeny  of  Preseiwed 
Fish,  and  Determined  Cock,  and  those  other  illustrious  squat- 
ters, to  assail  the  city  of  New- Amsterdam  by  land.  In  the 
meanwhile,  the  hostile  ships  made  awful  preparation  to  com- 
mence an  assault  by  Avater. 

The  streets  of  New- Amsterdam  now  presented  a  scene  of 
wild  dismay  and  consternation.  In  vain  did  the  gallant  Stuy- 
vesant  order  the  citizens  to  arm,  and  assemble  in  the  public 


206 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-TORK. 


square  or  market-place.  The  whole  party  of  Short  Pipes  in  the 
course  of  a  single  night  had  changed  into  arrant  old  women — 
a  metamorphosis  only  to  be  paralleled  by  the  prodigies  re- 
corded by  Livy  as  having  happened  at  Eome  on  the  approach 
of  Hannibal,  when  statues  sweated  in  pure  affright,  goats 
were  converted  into  sheep,  and  cocks  turning  into  hens  ran 
cackling  about  the  streets. 

The  harassed  Peter,  thus  menaced  from  without,  and  tor- 
mented from  within — baited  by  the  burgomasters,  and  hooted 
at  by  the  rabble,  chafed  and  growled  and  raged  hke  a  furious 
bear,  tied  to  a  stake  and  worried  by  a  legion  of  scoundrel  curs. 
Finding,  however,  that  aU  further  attempts  to  defend  the  city 
were  vain,  and  hearing  that  an  irruption  of  borderers  and 
mosstroopers  was  ready  to  deluge  him  from  the  east,  he  was 
at  length  compelled,  in  spite  of  his  proud  heart,  which  swelled 
in  his  throat  until  it  had  nearly  choked  him,  to  consent  to  a 
treaty  of  surrender. 

Words  cannot  express  the  transports  of  the  people,  on  re- 
ceiving this  agreeable  intelligence;  had  they  obtained  a  con- 
quest over  their  enemies,  they  could  not  have  indulged  greater 
dehght.  The  streets  resounded  T\^th  their  congratulations — 
■•  they  extolled  their  governor,  as  the  father  and  deliverer  of  his 
country — they  crowded  to  his  house  to  testify  their  gratitude, 
and  were  ten  times  more  noisy  in  their  plaudits,  than  when  he 
returned,  with  victory  perched  upon  his  beaver,  from  the 
glorious  capture  of  Fort  Christina.  But  the  indignant  Peter 
shut  his  doors  and  windows,  and  took  refuge  in  the  innermost 
recesses  of  Ms  mansion,  that  he  might  not  hear  the  ignoble  re- 
joicings of  the  rabble. 

In  consequence  of  this  consent  of  the  governor,  a  parley  was 
demanded  of  the  besieging  forces  to  treat  of  the  terms  of 
surrender.  Accordingly,  a  deputation  of  six  commissionei-s 
was  appointed  on  both  sides ;  and  on  the  27th  August,  1664,  a 
capitiilation  highly  favourable  to  the  province,  and  honour- 
able to  Peter  Stuyvesant,  was  agreed  to  by  the  enemy,  who 
had  conceived  a  high  opinion  of  the  valour  of  the  Manhattoes, 
and  the  magnanimity  and  unbounded  discretion  of  their  gov- 
ernor. 

One  thing  alone  remained,  which  was,  that  the  articles  of 
surrender  should  be  ratified,  and  signed  by  the  governor. 
When  the  commissioners  respectfully  waited  upon  him  for 
this  purpose,  they  were  received  by  the  hardy  old  waiTior 
with  the  most  grim  and  bitter  courtesy.    His  warlike  accoutre^ 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW-YORK. 


297 


ments  were  laid  aside — an  old  India  night-gown  was  wrapped 
about  his  rugged  limbs,  a  red  night-cap  overshadowed  his 
frowning  brow,  and  an  iron  gray  bread,  of  three  days'  growth, 
gave  additional  giimness  to  his  visage.  Thrice  did  he  seize  a 
little  worn-out  stump  of  a  pen,  and  essay  to  sign  the  loath- 
some paper — thrice  did  he  clinch  his  teeth,  and  make  a  most 
horrible  countenance,  as  though  a  pestiferous  dose  of  rhubarb, 
senna,  and  ipecacuanha,  had  been  offered  to  his  lips ;  at  length, 
dasliing  it  fi'om  him,  he  seized  his  brass-hilted  sword,  and 
jerking  it  from  the  scabbard,  swore  by  St.  Nicholas,  he'd 
sooner  die  than  yield  to  any  power  under  heaven. 

In  vain  was  every  attempt  to  shake  this  sturdy  resolution — 
menaces,  remonstrances,  revilings,  were  exhausted  to  no  pur- 
pose— for  two  whole  days  was  the  house  of  the  valiant  Peter 
besieged  by  the  clamorous  rabble,  and  for  two  whole  days  did 
he  betake  himself  to  his  arms,  and  persist  in  a  magnanimous 
refusal  to  ratify  the  capitulation. 

At  length  the  populace,  finding  that  boisterous  measures  did 
but  incense  more  determined  opposition,  bethought  themselves 
of  an  humble  expedient,  by  which,  happily,  the  governor's  ire 
might  be  soothed,  and  his  resolution  undermined.  And  now  a 
solemn  and  mournful  procession,  headed  by  the  burgomasters 
and  schepens,  and  followed  by  the  populace,  moves  slowly  to 
the  governor's  dwelhng,  bearing  the  capitulation.  Here  they 
found  the  stout  old  hero,  drawn  up  like  a  giant  in  his  castle, 
the  doors  strongly  barricadoed,  and  himself  in  full  regimentals, 
with  his  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  firmly  posted  with  a  blunder- 
buss at  the  garret- window. 

There  was  something  in  this  formidable  position  that  struck 
even  the  ignoble  vulgar  with  awe  and  admii-ation.  The  braw- 
ling multitude  could  not  but  reflect  with  self-abasement  upon 
their  own  pusillanimous  conduct,  when  they  beheld  their 
hardy  but  deserted  old  governor,  thus  faithful  to  his  post,  like 
a  forlorn  hope,  and  fully  prepared  to  defend  his  ungrateful 
city  to  the  last.  These  compunctions,  however,  were  soon  over- 
whelmed by  the  recurring  tide  of  public  apprehension.  The 
populace  arranged  themselves  before  the  house,  taking  off 
their  hats  with  most  respectful  humihty. — Burgomaster  Roor- 
back, who  was  o.^  that  popular  class  of  orators  described  by 
Sallust  as  being  "talkative  rather  than  eloquent,"  stepped 
forth  and  addressed  the  governor  in  a  speech  of  three  houi-s' 
length;  detailing  in  the  most  pathetic  terms  the  calamitous 
situation  of  the  province,  and  urging  liim  in  a  constant  repe- 


208 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


tition  of  the  same  arguments  and  words  to  sign  the  capitula- 
tion. 

The  mighty  Peter  eyed  him  from  his  httle  garret-window  in 
grim  silence — nov;-  and  then  his  eye  would  glance  over  the  sur- 
rounding rabble,  and  an  indignant  grin,  like  that  of  an  angry 
mastiff,  would  mark  his  iron  visage.  But  though  he  was  a  man 
of  most  uhdaunted  mettle— though  he  had  a  heart  as  big  as 
an  ox,  and  a  head  that  would  have  set  adamant  to  scorn — yet 
after  all  he  was  a  mere  mortal : — wearied  out  by  these  repeated 
oppositions  and  this  eternal  haranguing,  and  perceiving  that 
unless  he  comphed,  the  inhabitants  would  follow  their  own  in- 
chnations,  or  rather  their  fears,  ^vithout  waiting  for  his  con- 
sent, he  testily  ordered  thom  to  hand  up  the  paper.  It  was 
accordingly  hoisted  to  him  on  the  end  of  a  pole,  and  having 
scrawled  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  it,  he  anathematized 
them  all  for  a  set  of  cowardly,  mutinous,  degenerate  poltroons 
— threw  the  capitulation  at  their  heads,  slammed  down  the 
window,  and  was  heard  stimiping  down  stairs  with  the  most 
vehement  indignation.  The  rabble  incontinently  took  to  their 
heels ;  even  the  burgomasters  were  not  slow  in  evacuating  the 
premises,  fearing  lest  the  sturdy  Peter  might  issue  from  his 
den,  and  greet  them  with  some  unwelcome  testimonial  of  his 
displeasure. 

Within  three  hours  after  the  surrender,  a  legion  of  British 
beef -fed  warriors  poured  into  New- Amsterdam,  taking  posses- 
sion of  the  fort  and  batteries.  And  now  might  be  heard  from 
all  quarters  the  sound  of  hammers,  made  by  the  old  Dutch 
burghers,  who  were  busily  employed  in  nailing  up  their  dooi-s 
and  windows,  to  protect  their  vrouws  from  these  fierce  bar- 
barians, whom  ih.Qj  contemplated  in  silent  sullenness  from  the 
garret-windows,  as  they  paraded  through  the  streets. 

Thus  did  Col.  Richard  Nichols,  the  commander  of  the  British 
forces,  enter  into  quiet  possession  of  the  conquered  realm,  as 
locum  tenens  for  the  Duke  of  York.  The  victory  was  at- 
tended with  no  other  outrage  than  that  of  changing  the  name 
of  the  province  and  its  metropolis,  which  thenceforth  were 
denominated  New-York,  and  so  have  continued  to  be  called 
unto  the  present  day.  The  inhabitants,  according  to  treaty, 
were  allowed  to  maintain  quiet  possession  of  their  property; 
but  so  inveterately  did  they  retain  their  abhorrence  of  the 
British  nation,  that  in  a  private  meeting  of  the  leading  citi- 
zens, it  was  unanimously  determined  never  to  ask  any  of  their 
conqueroi'^  to  dinner. 


A  HISTORY  OF  JS'EW-TORK. 


299 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONTAINING  THE  DIGNIFIED  RETIREMENT  AND  MORTAL  SURRENDER 
OF  PETER  THE  HEADSTRONG. 

Thus,  then,  have  I  conchided  this  great  historical  enterprise ; 
but  before  I  lay  aside  my  weary  pen,  there  yet  remains  to  be 
performed  one  pious  duty.  If,  among  the  variety  of  readers 
that  may  peruse  tliis  book,  there  should  haply  be  found  any  of 
those  souls  of  true  nobility,  which  glow  with  celestial  fire  at 
the  history  of  the  generous  and  the  brave,  they  will  doubtless 
be  anxious  to  know  the  fate  of  the  gallant  Peter  Stuyvesant. 
To  gratify  one  such  sterling  heart  of  gold,  I  would  go  more 
lengths  than  to  instruct  the  cold-blooded  curiosity  of  a  whole 
fraternity  of  philosophers. 

No  sooner  had  that  high-mettled  cavalier  signed  the  articles 
of  capitulation,  than,  determined  not  to  witness  the  humilia- 
tion of  his  favourite  city,  he  turned  his  back  on  its  walls,  and 
made  a  growhng  retreat  to  his  Boiiicery,  or  coimtry-seat,  which 
was  situated  about  two  miles  off;  where  he  passed  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days  in  patriarchal  retirement.  There  he 
enjoyed  that  tranquillity  of  mind  which  he  had  never  kno^vn 
amid  the  distracting  cares  of  government;  and  tasted  the 
sweets  of  absolute  and  uncontrolled  authority,  which  his  fac- 
tious subjects  had  so  often  dashed  with  the  bitterness  of 
opposition. 

No  persuasions  could  ever  induce  him  to  revisit  the  city — on 
the  contrary,  he  would  always  have  his  great  arm-chair  placed 
with  its  back  to  the  windows  which  looked  in  that  direction ; 
until  a  thick  grove  of  trees,  planted  by  his  own  hand,  grew 
up  and  formed  a  screen  that  effectually  excluded  it  from  the 
prospect.  He  railed  continually  at  the  degenerate  innovations 
and  improvements  introduced  by  the  conquerors— forbade  a 
word  of  their  detested  language  to  be  spoken  in  his  family— a 
prohibition  readily  obeyed,  since  none  of  the  household  could 
speak  anything  but  Dutch— and  even  ordered  a  fine  avenue  to 
be  cut  down  in  front  of  his  house,  because  it  consisted  of  Eng- 
hsh  cherry-trees. 

The  same  incessant  vigilance  that  blazed  forth  when  he  had 
a  vast  province  under  his  care  now  showed  itself  with  equal 
vigour,  thouj2:h  in  narrower  limits.    He  patrolled  with  unceas- 


300 


A  mSTORT  OF  NEW- YORK. 


ing  watchfulness  around  the  houndaries  of  his  Httle  territory; 
repelled  every  encroachment  with  intrepid  promptness;  pun- 
ished every  vagrant  depredation  upon  his  orchard  or  his  farm- 
yard with  inflexible  severity — and  conducted  every  stray  hog 
or  cow  in  triumph  to  the  pound.  But  to  the  indigent  neigh- 
bour, the  friendless  stranger,  or  the  weary  wanderer,  hig 
spacious  doors  were  ever  open,  and  his  capacious  fire-place, 
that  emblem  of  his  own  warm  and  generous  heart,  had  always 
a  corner  to  receive  and  cherish  them.  There  was  an  exception 
to  this,  I  must  confess,  in  case  the  ill-starred  apphcant  was  an 
Englishman  or  a  Yankee,  to  Avhom,  though  he  might  extend 
the  hand  of  assistance,  he  never  could  be  brought  to  yield  the 
rites  of  hospitality.  Nay,  if  peradventure  some  straggling 
merchant  of  the  east  should  stop  at  his  door,  Avith  his  cart-load 
of  tin- ware  or  wooden  bowls,  the  fiery  Peter  would  issue  forth 
like  a  giant  from  his  castle,  and  make  such  a  furious  clatter- 
ing among  his  pots  and  kettles  that  the  vender  of  ' '  notions''' 
was  fain  to  betake  himself  to  instant  flight. 

His  handsome  suit  of  regimentals,  worn  threadbare  by  the 
brush,  was  carefully  hung  up  in  the  state  bed-chamber,  and 
regularly  aired  on  the  first  fair  day  of  every  month — and  his 
cocked  hat  and  trusty  sword  were  suspended  in  grim  repose 
over  the  parlour  mantel-piece,  forming  supporters  to  a  full- 
length  portrait  of  the  renowned  Adixdral  Van  Tromp.  In  his 
domestic  empire  he  maintained  strict  discipline,  and  a  weU- 
organized,  despotic  government ;  but,  though  his  own  will  was 
the  supreme  law,  yet  the  good  of  his  subjects  was  his  constant 
object.  He  watched  over,  not  merely  their  immediate  com- 
forts, but  their  morals  and  their  ultimate  welfare ;  for  he  gave 
them  abundance  of  excellent  admonition,  nor  could  any  of 
them  complain,  that,  when  occasion  required,  he  was  by  any 
means  niggardly  in  bestowing  wholesome  correction. 

The  good  old  Dutch  festivals,  those  periodical  demonstrations 
of  an  overflowing  heart  and  a  thankful  spirit,  which  are  fall- 
ing into  sad  disuse  among  my  fellow-citizens,  were  faithfully 
observed  in  the  mansion  of  Governor  Stuj^esant.  New-year 
was  truly  a  day  of  open-handed  liberality,  of  jocund  revelry, 
and  warm-hearted  congratulation— when  the  bosom  seemed 
to  swell  with  genial  good-fellowship — and  the  plenteous  table 
was  attended  with  an  unceremonious  freedom,  and  honest, 
broad-mouthed  merriment,  unknown  in  these  days  of  degen- 
eracy and  refinement.  Pas  and  Pinxter  were  sci-upulously 
observed  throughout  his  dominions;  nor  was  the  day  of  St. 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


301 


Nicholas  suffered  to  pass  by  without  making  presents,  hang- 
ing the  stocking  in  the  chimney,  and  complying  with  all  its 
other  ceremonies. 

Once  a  year,  on  the  first  day  of  April,  he  used  to  array  him- 
self in  full  regimentals,  being  the  anniversary  of  his  triumphal 
entry  into  New- Amsterdam,  after  the  conquest  of  New-Sweden. 
Tliis  was  always  a  kind  of  saturnalia  among  the  domestics, 
when  they  considered  themselves  at  liberty,  in  some  measure, 
to  say  and  do  what  they  pleased ;  for  on  this  day  their  master 
was  always  observed  to  unbend,  and  become  exceeding  pleas- 
ant and  jocose,  sending  the  old  gray-headed  negroes  on  April 
fool's  errands  for  pigeon's  milk ;  not  one  of  whom  but  allowed 
himself  to  be  taken  in,  and  humoured  his  old  master's  jokes, 
as  became  a  faithful  and  well-disciplined  dependant.  Thus 
did  he  reign,  happily  and  peacefully,  on  his  own  land— injur- 
ing no  man— envying  no  man — molested  by  no  outward  strifes 
— perplexed  by  no  internal  commotions ;  and  the  mighty  mon- 
archs  of  the  earth,  who  were  vainly  seeking  to  maintain  peace, 
and  promote  the  welfare  of  mankind,  by  war  and  desolation, 
would  have  done  well  to  have  made  a  voyage  to  the  little 
island  of  Manna-hata,  and  learned  a  lesson  in  government 
from  the  domestic  economy  of  Peter  Stuyvesant. 

In  process  of  time,  however,  the  old  governor,  like  all  other 
children  of  mortality,  began  to  exhibit  tokens  of  decay.  Like 
an  aged  oak,  which,  though  it  long  has  braved  the  fury  of  the 
elements,  and  still  retains  its  gigantic  proportions,  yet  begins 
to  shake  and  groan  with  every  blast— so  was  it  with  the  gal- 
lant Peter ;  for,  though  he  still  bore  the  port  and  semblance  of 
what  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  hardihood  and  chivalry,  yet 
did  age  and  infirmity  begin  to  sap  the  vigour  of  his  frame — 
but  his  heart,  that  most  unconquerable  citadel,  still  triumphed 
unsubdued.  With  matchless  avidity  would  he  listen  to  every 
article  of  intelligence  concerning  the  battles  between  the 
English  and  Dutch — still  would  his  pulse  beat  high,  whenever 
he  heard  of  the  victories  of  De  Ruyter — and  his  countenance 
lower,  and  his  eyebrows  knit,  when  fortune  turned  in  favour 
of  the  English.  At  length,  as  on  a  certain  day  he  had  just 
smoked  his  fifth  pipe,  and  was  napping  after  dinner  in  his 
arm-chau",  conquering  the  whole  British  nation  in  his  dream  s^ 
he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  a  fearful  ringing  of  bolls,  rattling 
of  drums,  and  roaring  of  cannon,  that  put  all  his  blood  in  a 
ferment.  But  when  he  learnt  that  these  rejoicings  were  in 
honour  of  a  great  victory  obtained  by  the  combined  English 


802 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


and  French  fleets  over  the  brave  De  Ruyter  and  the  youngei 
Van  Tromp,  it  went  so  much  to  his  heart,  that  he  took  to  his 
bed,  and,  in  less  than  three  days,  was  brought  to  death's  door 
by  a  violent  cholera  morbus !  But,  even  in  this  extremity,  h© 
still  displayed  the  unconquerable  spirit  of  Peter  the  Head- 
strong; holding  out,  to  the  last  gasp,  with  the  most  inflexible 
obstinacy,  against  a  whole  army  of  old  women,  who  were 
bent  upon  driving  the  enemy  out  of  his  bowels,  after  a  true 
Dutch  mode  of  defence,  by  inundating  the  seat  of  war  with 
catnip  and  pennyroyal. 

While  he  thus  lay,  lingering  on  the  verge  of  dissolution, 
news  was  brought  him  that  the  brave  De  Ruyter  had  suffered 
but  httle  loss — had  made  good  his  retreat — and  meant  once 
more  to  meet  the  enemy  in  battle.  The  closing  eye  of  the  old 
warrior  kindled  at  the  words — he  partly  raised  himself  in  bed 
—a  flash  of  martial  fire  beamed  across  his  visage— he  clenched 
his  ^vithered  hand,  as  if  he  felt  within  his  gi^ipe  that  sword 
which  waved  in  triumph  before  the  walls  of  Fort  Christina, 
and,  giving  a  grim  smile  of  exultation,  simk  back  upon  his 
pillow  and  expired. 

Thus  died  Peter  Stuyvesant,  a  valiant  soldier — a  loyal  sub- 
ject— an  upright  governor,  and  an  honest  Dutchman — who 
wanted  only  a  few  empires  to  desolate  to  have  been  immortal- 
ized as  a  hero. 

His  funeral  obsequies  were  celebrated  "^dth  the  utmost  gran- 
deur and  solemnity.  The  town  was  perfectly  emptied  of  its 
inhabitants,  who  crowded  in  throngs  to  pay  the  last  sad  hon- 
ours to  their  good  old  governor.  All  his  sterling  quahties 
rushed  in  full  tide  upon  their  recollections,  while  the  memory 
of  his  foibles  and  his  faults  had  expired  with  him.  The  ancient 
burghers  contended  who  should  have  the  privilege  of  bearing 
the  pall ;  the  populace  strove  who  should  walk  nearest  to  the 
bier — and  the  melancholy  procession  was  closed  by  a  number 
of  gray -headed  negroes,  who  had  wintered  and  summered  in 
the  household  of  their  departed  master,  for  the  greater  part  of 
a  century. 

With  sad  and  gloomy  countenances  the  multitude  gathered 
around  the  grave.  They  dwelt  with  mournful  hearts  on  the 
sturdy  virtues,  the  signal  services,  and  the  gallant  exploits  of 
the  brave  old  worthy.  They  recalled,  with  secret  upbraidings, 
their  own  factious  opposition  to  his  government — and  many  an 
ancient  burgher,  whose  phlegmatic  features  had  never  been 
known  to  relax,  nor  his  eyes  to  moisten,  was  now  observed  to 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


puff  a  pensive  pipe,  and  the  big  drop  to  steal  down  his  cheek 
— while  he  muttered,  with  affectionate  accent,  and  melancholy 
shake  of  the  head — "Well  den! — Hardkoppig  Peter  ben  gone 
at  last  1" 

His  remains  were  deposited  in  the  family  vault,  under  a  chapel, 
which  he  had  piously  erected  on  his  estate,  and  dedicated  to 
St.  Nicholas — and  which  stood  on  the  identical  spot  at  present 
occupied  by  St.  Mark's  Church,  where  his  tomb-stone  is  still  to 
be  seen.  His  estate,  or  Bmiwery,  as  it  was  called,  has  ever  con- 
thiued  in  the  possession  of  his  descendants,  who,  by  the  imi- 
foi-m  intep^rity  of  their  conduct  and  their  strict  adherence  to 
the  customs  and  manners  that  prevailed  in  the  good  old 
times,'^  have  proved  tliemcelves  worthy  of  their  illustrious  an- 
cestor. Many  a  lime  and  oft  has  the  farm  been  haunted,  at 
night,  by  enterprising  money-diggers,  in  quest  of  pots  of  gold, 
said  to  have  been  buried  by  the  old  governor— though  I  cannot 
learn  that  any  of  them  have  ever  been  enriched  by  their  re- 
seoTches :  and  who  is  there,  among  my  native-born  fellow-citi- 
zens, that  does  not  remember,  when,  in  the  mischievous  days  of 
his  boyhood,  he  conceived  it  a  great  exploit  to  rob  "Stuyve- 
sant's  orchard  "  on  a  holy  day  afternoon? 

At  this  S'brong-hold  of  the  family  may  still  be  seen  certain 
memorials  of  the  immortal  Peter.  His  full-length  portrait 
frowns,  in  martial  terrors  from  the  parlour  wall — his  cocked 
hat-  and  sword  still  hang  up  in  the  best  bed-room — his  brim- 
stone-coloured breeches  were  for  a  long  while  suspended  in  the 
hall,  until  some  years  since  they  occasioned  a  dispute  between 
a  new  married  couple  -and  his  silver-mounted  wooden  leg  is 
still  treasured  up  in  the  store-room  as  an  invaluable  relic. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  AUTKOR'S  reflections  UPON  WHAT  HAS  BEEN  SATO. 

Among  the  numerous  events,  which  are  each  in  their  turn 
the  most  direful  and  melancholy  of  all  possible  occurrences, 
in  your  interesting  and  authentic  history,  there  is  none  that 
occasion  such  deep  and  heart-rending  grief  as  the  decline  and 
fall  of  your  renowned  and  mighty  empires.  Where  is  the 
reader  who  can  contemplate,  without  emotion,  the  disastrous 


304 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORE. 


events  by  which  the  great  dynasties  of  the  world  have  been 
extinguished?  While  wandering,  in  imagination,  among  the 
gigantic  ruins  of  states  and  empires,  and  marking  the  tremen- 
dous convulsions  that  wrought  their  overthrow,  the  bosom  of 
the  melancholy  inquirer  swells  with  sympathy  commensurate 
to  the  surrounding  desolation.  Kingdoms,  principahties,  and 
powers,  have  each  had  their  rise,  tlieir  progress,  and  their 
downfall — each  in  its  turn  has  swayed  a  potent  sceptre— each 
has  returned  to  its  primeval  nothingness.  And  thus  did  it  fare 
with  the  empire  of  their  High  Mightinesses,  at  the  Manhattoes, 
under  the  peaceful  reign  of  Walter  the  Doubter — the  fretful 
reign  of  WiUiam  the  Testy — and  the  chivalric  reign  of  Peter 
the  Headstrong. 

Its  history  is  fruitful  instruction,  and  worthy  of  being  pon- 
dered over  attentively;  for  it  is  by  thus  raking  among  the 
ashes  of  departed  greatness,  that  the  sparks  of  true  knowledge 
are  found,  and  the  lamp  of  wisdom  illumined.  Let,  then,  the 
reign  of  Walter  the  Doubter  warn  against  yielding  to  that 
sleek,  contented  security,  that  overweening  fondness  for  com- 
fort and  repose,  that  are  produced  by  a  state  of  prosperity  and 
peace.  These  tend  to  unnerve  a  nation ;  to  destroy  its  pride  of 
character ;  to  render  it  patient  of  insult,  deaf  to  the  calls  of 
honour  and  of  justice ;  and  cause  it  to  chng  to  peace,  hke  the 
sluggard  to  his  pillow,  at  the  expense  of  every  valuable  duty 
and  consideration.  Such  supineness  insures  the  very  evil  from 
which  it  shrinks.  One  right,  yielded  up,  produces  the  usurpa- 
tion of  a  second ;  one  encroachment,  passively  suffered,  makes 
way  for  another ;  and  the  nation  that  thus,  through  a  doting 
love  of  peace,  has  sacrificed  honour  and  interest,  will  at  length 
have  to  fight  for  existence. 

Let  the  disastrous  reign  of  William  the  Testy  serve  as  a  salu- 
tary warning  against  that  fitful,  feverish  mode  of  legislation 
that  acts  without  system ;  depends  on  shifts  and  projects,  and 
trusts  to  lucky  contingencies ;  that  hesitates,  and  wavers,  and 
at  length  decides  mth  the  rashness  of  ignorance  and  imbecil- 
ity; that  stoops  for  popularity,  by  courthig  the  prejudices  and 
flattering  the  arrogance,  rather  than  commanding  the  respect, 
of  the  rabble ;  that  seeks  safety  in  a  multitude  of  counsellors, 
and  distracts  itself  by  a  variety  of  contradictory  schemes  and 
opinions;  that  mistakes  procrastination  for  deliberate  wari- 
ness— hurry  for  decision — starveling  parsimony  for  wholesome 
economy — bustle  for  business,  and  vapouring  for  valour ;  that 
is  violent  in  council,  sanguine  in  expectation,  precipitate  in 


A  Ills  TOUT  OF  NEW-TORK 


805 


action,  and  feeble  in  execution;  that  undertakes  enterprises 
without  forethought,  enters  upon  them  without  preparation^ 
conducts  them  without  energy",  and  ends  them  in  confusion 
and  defeat. 

Let  the  reign  of  the  good  Stuyvesant  show  the  effects  of  vigour 
and  decision,  even  when  destitute  of  cool  judgment,  and  sur- 
rounded by  perplexities.  Let  it  show  how  frankness,  probity, 
and  high-souled  courage  will  command  respect  and  secure  hon-' 
our,  even  where  success  is  unattainable.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  let  it  caution  against  a  too  ready  rehance  ou  the  good 
faith  of  others,  and  a  too  honest  confidence  in  the  loving  pro- 
fessions of  powerful  neighbours,  who  are  most  friendly  when 
they  most  mean  to  betray.  Let  it  teach  a  judicious  attention 
to  the  opinions  and  wishes  of  the  many,  who,  in  times  of  i)eril, 
must  be  soothed  and  led,  or  apprehension  will  overpower  the 
deference  to  authority.  Let  the  empty  wordiness  of  his  factious 
subjects;  their  intemperate  harangues;  their  violent  "resolu- 
tions;" their  hectorings  against  an  absent  enemy,  and  their 
pusillanimity  on  his  approach,  teach  us  to  distrust  and  despise 
those  clamorous  patriots  whose  courage  dwells  but  in  the 
tongue.  Let  them  serve  as  a  lesson  to  repress  that  insolence  of 
speech,  destitute  of  real  force,  which  too  often  breaks  forth  in 
popular  bodies,  and  bespeaks  the  vanity  rather  than  the  spirit 
of  a  nation.  Let  them  caution  us  against  vaunting  too  much 
of  our  own  power  and  prowess,  and  revihng  a  noble  enemy. 
True  gallantry  of  soul  would  always  lead  us  to  treat  a  foe  with 
courtesy  and  proud  punctilio ;  a  contrary  conduct  but  takes  from 
the  merit  of  victory,  and  renders  defeat  doubly  disgraceful. 

But  I  cease  to  dwell  on  the  stores  of  excellent  examples  to  be 
drawn  from  the  ancient  chronicles  of  the  Manhattoes.  He  who 
reads  attentively  will  discover  the  threads  of  gold  which  run 
throughout  the  web  of  history,  and  are  invisible  to  the  dull  eye 
of  ignorance.  But,  before  I  conclude,  let  me  point  out  a  solemn 
warning,  furnished  in  the  subtle  chain  of  events  by  which  the 
capture  of  Fort  Casimir  has  produced  the  present  convulsions 
of  our  globe. 

Attend,  then,  gentle  reader,  to  this  plain  deduction,  which, 
if  thou  art  a  king,  an  emperor,  or  other  powerful  potentat'C,  I 
advise  thee  to  treasure  up  in  thy  heart — though  little  expecta- 
tion have  I  that  my  work  will  fall  into  such  hands,  for  well 
I  know  the  care  of  crafty  ministers  to  keep  all  grave  and  edi- 
fying books  of  the  kind  out  of  the  way  of  unhappy  monarchs 
-  lest  perad venture  they  should  read  them  and  learn  wisdom. 


B06 


A  HISTORY  OF  NEW- YORK. 


By  the  treacherous  surprisal  of  Fort  Casimir,  then,  did  the 
crafty  Swedes  enjoy  a  transient  triumph ;  but  drew  upon  their 
heads  the  vengeance  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  who  wrested  all 
New-Sweden  from  their  hands.  By  the  conquest  of  NcAv-Swe- 
den,  Peter  Stuyvesant  aroused  the  claims  of  Lord  Baltimore ; 
who  appealed  to  the  Cabinet  of  Great  Britain ;  who  subdued 
the  whole  province  of  New-Netherlands,  By  this  great  achieve- 
ment, the  whole  extent  of  North  America,  from  Nova  Scotia 
to  the  Floridas,  was  rendered  one  entire  dependency  upon  the 
British  crown— but  mark  the  consequence:— The  hitherto  scat- 
tered colonies  being  thus  consolidated,  and  having  no  rival 
colonies  to  check  or  keep  them  in  awe,  waxed  great  and  power- 
ful, and  finally  becoming  too  strong  for  the  mother  country, 
were  enabled  to  shake  off  its  bonds,  and  by  a  glorious  revolu- 
tion became  an  independent  empire.  But  the  chain  of  efforts 
stopped  not  here;  the  successful  revolution  in  America  pro- 
duced the  sanguinary  revolution  in  France,  which  produced 
the  puissant  Buonaparte,  who  produced  the  French  despotism, 
which  has  thrown  the  whole  world  in  confusion ! — Thus  have 
these  great  powers  been  successsivly  punished  for  their  ill- 
starred  conquests— and  thus,  as  I  asserted,  have  all  the  pres- 
entconvulsions,  revolutions,  and  disasters  that  overwhelm 
mankind,  originated  m  the  capture  of  the  httle  Fort  Casimir, 
as  recorded  in  this  eventful  history. 

And  now,  worthy  reader,  ere  I  take  a  sad  farewell — which, 
alas !  must  be  for  ever— wilhngly  would  I  part  in  cordial  fellow- 
ship, and  bespeak  thy  kmd-hearted  remembrance.  That  I  have 
not  written  a  better  history  of  the  days  of  the  patriarchs,  is 
not  my  fault— had  any  other  person  written  one  as  good,  I 
should  not  have  attempted  it  at  all.  That  many  will  hereafter 
spring  up  and  surpass  me  in  excellence,  I  have  very  little 
doubt,  and  still  less  care ;  well  knowing,  when  the  great  Christo- 
vallo  Colon  (who  is  vulgarly  called  Columbus)  had  once  stood 
his  egg  upon  its  end,  every  one  at  the  table  could  stand  his  up 
a  thousand  times  more  dexterously.  Should  any  reader  find 
matter  of  offence  in  this  history,  I  should  heartily  grieve, 
though  I  would  on  no  account  question  his  penetration  by  tell- 
ing him  he  is  mistal^en — his  good  nature,  by  telhng  him  he  is 
captious— or  his  pure  conscience,  by  teUing  him  he  is  startled 
at  a  shadow.  Surely  if  he  is  so  ingenious  in  finding  offence 
where  none  is  intended,  it  were  a  thousand  pities  he  should  n^t 
be  suffered  to  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  discovery. 

I  have  too  high  an  opinion  of  the  imderstanding  of  my  fellow- 


A  HISTORY  OF  M^JW-YORK. 


307 


citizens,  to  think  of  yielding  them  any  instruction ;  and  I  covet 
too  much  their  good-will,  to  forfeit  it  by  giving  them  good  ad- 
vice. I  am  none  of  those  cynics  who  despise  the  world  because 
it  despises  them — on  the  contrary,  though  but  low  in  its  regard, 
I  look  up  to  it  with  the  most  perfect  good  nature,  and  my  only 
sorrow  is,  that  it  does  not  prove  itself  more  worthy  of  the  un- 
bounded love  I  bear  it. 

.If,  however,  in  this  my  historic  production— the  scanty  fruit 
of  a  long  and  laborious  life— I  have  failed  to  gratify  the  dainty 
palate  of  the  age,  I  can  only  lament  my  misfortune— for  it  is 
too  late  in  the  season  for  me  even  to  hope  to  repair  it.  Already 
has  withering  age  showered  his  sterile  snows  upon  my  brow ; 
in  a  little  while,  and  this  genial  warmth,  which  still  lingers 
around  my  heart,  and  throbs— worthy  reader — throbs  kindly 
towards  thyself,  will  be  chilled  for  ever.  Haply  this  frail 
compound  of  dust,  which  while  alive  may  have  given  birth  to 
nought  but  unprofitable  weeds,  may  form  an  humble  sod  of  the 
valley,  from  whence  may  spring  many  a  sweet  wild  flower,  to 
adorn  my  beloved  island  of  Manna-hata! 


THE 


CRAYON  PAPERS. 


BY 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Mount  Joy   5 

The  Great  Mississippi  Bubble   41 

Don  Juan— a  Spectral  Research  ,   70 

Bhoek;  or  the  Dutch  Paradise   78 

Sketches  in  Paris,  1828 — My  French  Neighbor;  the  Englishman  at  Paris;  Eng- 
lish and  French  Character;  the  Tuileries  and  Windsor  Castle;  the  Field  of 

"Waterloo;  Paris  at  the  Restoration   83 

American  Researches  in  Italy— Life  of  Tasso;  Recovery  of  a  Lost  Portrait  of 

Dante   101 

The  Taking  or  the  \  -^il   106 

The  Charming  Letorieres   113 

The  Early  Experiences  of  Ralph  Ringwood   116 

The  Seminoles— Origin  of  the  White,  Red,  and  Black  Men;  the  Conspiracy  of 

Neamathla   144 

Letter  prom  Granada   155 

Abderahman,  Founder  of  the  Dynasty  of  the  Ommiades  in  Spain   161 

The  Widow's  Ordeal   179 

The  Creole  Village   189 

A  Contented  Man   196 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 

BY 

GEOFFEET  CRAYON,  GENT. 


MOUNT  JOY: 

OR  SOME  PASSAGES  OUT  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  A  CASTLE-BUILDER. 

I  WAS  born  among  romantic  scenery,  in  one  of  the  wildest 
parts  of  the  Hudson,  which  at  that  time  was  not  so  thickly- 
settled  as  at  present.  My  father  was  descended  from  one  of  the 
old  Huguenot  families,  that  came  over  to  this  country  on  the 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantz.  He  lived  in  a  style  of  easy, 
rural  independence,  on  a  patrimonial  estate  that  had  been  for 
two  or  three  generations  in  the  family.  He  was  an  indolent, 
good-natured  man,  who  took  the  world  as  it  went,  and  had  a 
kind  of  laughing  philosophy,  that  parried  all  rubs  and  mis- 
haps, and  served  him  in  the  place  of  wisdom.  This  was  the 
part  of  his  character  least  to  my  taste ;  for  I  was  of  an  enthusi- 
astic, excitable  temperament,  prone  to  kindle  up  with  new 
schemes  and  projects,  and  he  was  apt  to  dash  my  sallying 
enthusiasm  by  some  unlucky  joke ;  so  that  whenever  I  was  in 
a  glow  with  any  sudden  excitement,  I  stood  in  mortal  dread  of 
his  good-humor. 

Yet  he  indulged  me  in  every  vagary ;  for  I  was  an  only  son, 
and  of  course  a  personage  of  importance  in  the  household.  I 
had  two  sisters  older  than  myself,  and  one  younger.  The 
former  were  educated  at  New  York,  under  the  eye  of  a 
maiden  aunt;  the  latter  rempJned  at  home,  and  was  my 
cherished  playmate,  the  companion  of  my  thoughts.  We 
were  two  imaginative  little  beings,  of  quick  susceptibility, 
and  prone  to  see  wonders  and  mysteries  in  everything  around 
us.  Scarce  had  we  learned  to  read,  when  our  mother  made 
us  hohday  presents  of  all  the  nursery  Uterature  of  the  day; 


6 


THE  CRA  YON  PAPERS, 


which  at  that  time  consisted  of  little  books  covered  with  gilt 
paper,  adorned  with  "cuts,"  and  filled  with  tales  of  fairies, 
giants,  and  enchanters.  What  draughts  of  delightful  fiction 
did  we  then  inhale !  My  sister  Sophy  was  of  a  soft  and  ten- 
der nature.  She  would  weep  over  the  woes  of  the  Childi-en 
in  the  Wood,  or  quake  at  the  dark  romance  of  Blue-Beard, 
and  the  terrible  mysteries  of  the  blue  chamber.  But  I  was 
all  for  enterprise  and  adventure.  I  burned  to  emulate  the 
deeds  of  that  heroic  prince  who  delivered  the  white  cat  from 
her  enchantment ;  or  he  of  no  less  royal  blood,  and  doughty 
enterprise,  who  broke  the  charmed  slumber  of  the  Beauty  in 
the  Wood! 

The  house  in  which  we  Hved  was  just  the  kind  of  place  to 
foster  such  propensities.  It  was  a  venerable  mansion,  half 
villa,  half  farmhouse.  The  oldest  part  was  of  stone,  with 
loop-holes  for  musketry,  having  served  as  a  family  fortress 
in  the  time  of  the  Indians.  To  this  there  had  been  made  vari- 
ous additions,  some  of  brick,  some  of  wood,  according  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  moment;  so  that  it  was  fuU  of  nooks  and 
crooks,  and  chambers  of  all  sorts  and  sizes.  It  was  buried 
among  wiUows,  elms,  and  cherry  trees,  and  surrounded  with 
roses  and  hollyhocks,  with  honeysuckle  and  sweet-brier 
clambering  about  every  window.  A  brood  of  hereditary 
pigeons  sunned  themselves  upon  the  roof;  hereditary  swsd- 
lows  and  martins  built  about  the  eaves  and  chimneys;  and 
hereditary  bees  hummed  about  the  flower-beds. 

Under  the  influence  of  our  story-books  every  object  around 
us  now  assumed  a  new  character,  and  a  charmed  interest. 
The  wild  flowers  were  no  longer  the  mere  ornaments  of  the 
fields,  or  the  resorts  of  the  toilful  bee ;  they  were  the  lurking 
places  of  fairies.  We  would  watch  the  humming-bird,  as  it 
hovered  around  the  trumpet  creeper  at  our  porch,  and  the 
butterfly  as  it  flitted  up  into  the  blue  air,  above  the  sunny 
tree  tops,  and  fancy  them  some  of  the  tiny  beings  from  fairy 
land  I  would  call  to  mind  all  that  I  had  read  of  Robin  Good- 
fellow  and  his  power  of  transformation.  Oh  how  I  envied  him 
that  power !  How  I  longed  to  be  able  to  compress  my  form 
into  utter  littleness ;  to  ride  the  bold  dragon-fly ;  swing  on  the 
tall  bearded  grass ;  follow  the  ant  into  his  subterraneous  habi- 
tation, or  dive  into  the  cavernous  depths  of  the  honeysuckle ! 

While  I  was  yet  a  mere  child  I  was  sent  to  a  daily  school, 
about  two  miles  distant.  The  school-house  was  on  the  edge  of 
a  wood,  close  by  a  brook  overhung  with  birches,  alders,  and 


MOUNT  JOT. 


7 


dwarf  willows.  We  of  the  school  who  lived  at  some  distance 
came  with  our  dinners  put  up  in  little  baskets.  In  the  in- 
tervals of  school  hours  we  would  gather  round  a  spring, 
under  a  tuft  of  hazel-bushes,  and  have  a  kind  of  picnic; 
interchanging  the  rustic  dainties  with  wliich  our  provident 
mothers  had  fitted  us  out.  Then  when  our  joyous  repast  was 
over,  and  my  companions  were  disposed  for  play,  I  would 
draw  forth  one  of  my  cherished  story-books,  stretch  myself 
on  the  greensward,  and  soon  lose  myseK  in  its  bewitching 
contents. 

I  became  an  oracle  among  my  schoolmates  on  account  of  my 
superior  erudition,  and  soon  imparted  to  them  the  contagion 
of  my  infected  fancy.  Often  in  the  evening,  after  school 
hours,  we  would  sit  on  the  trunk  of  some  fallen  tree  in  the 
woods,  and  vie  with  each  other  in  telling  extravagant  stories, 
imtil  the  whip-poor-will  began  his  nightly  moaning,  and  the 
fire-flies  sparkled  in  the  gloom.  Then  came  the  perilous  jour- 
ney homeward.  What  delight  we  would  take  in  getting  up 
wanton  panics  in  some  dusky  part  of  the  wood;  scampering 
like  frightened  deer;  pausmg  to  take  breath;  renewing  the 
panic,  and  scampering  off  again,  wild  with  fictitious  terror ! 

Our  greatest  trial  was  to  pass  a  dark,  lonely  pool,  covered 
with  pond-lilies,  peopled  with  bull-frogs  and  water  snakes,  and 
haunted  by  two  white  cranes.  Oh !  the  terrors  of  that  pond ! 
How  our  little  hearts  would  beat  as  we  approached  it ;  what 
fearful  glances  we  would  throw  around !  And  if  by  chance  a 
plash  of  a  wild  duck,  or  the  guttural  twang  of  a  bull-frog, 
struck  our  ears,  as  we  stole  quietly  by— away  we  sped,  nor 
paused  until  completely  out  of  the  woods,  "then,  when  I 
reached  home  what  a  world  of  adventures  and  imaginary 
terrors  would  I  have  to  relate  to  my  sister  Sophy ! 

As  I  advanced  in  years,  this  turn  of  mind  increased  upon 
me,  and  became  more  confirmed.  I  abandoned  myself  to  the 
impulses  of  a  romantic  imagination,  which  controlled  my 
studies,  and  gave  a  bias  to  all  my  habits.  My  father  observed 
me  continually  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  and  satisfied  himself 
that  I  was  a  profound  student;  but  what  were  my  studies? 
Works  of  fiction;  tales  of  chivalry;  voyages  of  discovery; 
travels  in  the  East ;  everything,  in  short,  that  partook  of  adven- 
ture and  romance.  I  well  remember  with  what  zest  I  entered 
apon  that  part  of  my  studies  which  treated  of  the  heathen 
mythology,  and  particularly  of  the  sylvan  deities.  Then  in- 
deed my  school  books  became  dear  to  me.   The  neighborhood 


8 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


was  well  calculated  to  foster  the  reveries  of  a  mind  like  mine. 
It  abounded  with  solitary  retreats,  wild  streams,  solemn  for- 
ests, and  silent  valleys.  I  would  ramble  about  for  a  whole  day 
with  a  volume  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  in  my  pocket,  and 
work  myself  into  a  kind  of  self-delusion,  so  as  to  identify  the 
surrounding  scenes  with  those  of  which  I  had  just  been  read- 
ing. I  would  loiter  about  a  brook  that  glided  through  the 
shadowy  depths  of  the  forest,  picturing  it  to  myself  the  haunt 
of  Naiads.  I  would  steal  round  some  bushy  copse  that  opened 
upon  a  glade,  as  if  I  expected  to  come  suddenly  upon  Diana 
and  her  nymphs,  or  to  behold  Pan  and  his  satyrs  bounding, 
with  whoop  and  halloo,  through  the  woodland.  I  would  throw 
myself,  during  the  panting  heats  of  a  summer  noon,  under  the 
shade  of  some  wide-spreading  tree,  and  muse  and  dream  away 
the  hours,  in  a  state  of  mental  intoxication.  I  drank  in  the 
very  light  of  day,  as  nectar,  and  my  soul  seemed  to  bathe  with 
ecstasy  in  the  deep  blue  of  a  summer  sky. 

In  these  wanderings,  nothing  occurred  to  jar  my  feelings,  or 
bring  me  back  to  the  reahties  of  life.  There  is  a  repose  in  our 
mighty  forests  that  gives  full  scope  to  the  imagination.  Now 
and  then  I  would  hear  the  distant  sound  of  the  wood-cutter's 
axe,  or  the  crash  of  some  tree  which  he  had  laid  low ;  but  these 
noises,  echoing  along  the  quiet  landscape,  could  easily  be 
wrought  by  fancy  into  harmony  with  its  illusions.  In  general, 
however,  the  woody  recesses  of  the  neighborhood  were  pecu- 
liarly wild  and  unfrequented.  I  could  ramble  for  a  whole 
day,  without  coming  upon  any  traces  of  cultivation.  The 
partridge  of  the  wood  scarcely  seemed  to  shun  my  path,  and 
the  squirrel,  from  his  nut-tree,  would  gaze  at  me  for  an 
instant,  with  sparlduig  eye,  as  if  wondering  at  the  unwonted 
intrusion. 

I  cannot  help  dwelling  on  this  delicious  period  of  my  hf e ; 
when  as  yet  I  had  kno^vn  no  sorrow,  nor  experienced  any 
worldly  care.  I  have  since  studied  much,  both  of  books  and 
men,  and  of  course  have  grown  too  wise  to  be  so  easily  pleased ; 
yet  with  all  my  wisdom,  I  must  confess  I  look  back  with  a 
secret  feeling  of  regret  to  the  days  of  happy  ignorance,  before 
I  had  begun  to  be  a  philosopher. 


It  must  be  evident  that  I  was  in  a  hopeful  training  for  one 
who  was  to  descend  into  the  arena  of  Hfe,  and  wrestle  Avith  the 
world.    The  tutor,  also,  who  superintended  my  studies  in  the 


MOUNT  JOY, 


9 


more  advanced  stage  of  my  education  was  just  fitted  to  com- 
plete the  fata  morgana  which  was  forming  in  my  mind.  His 
name  was  Glencoe.  He  was  a  pale,  melancholy-looking  man, 
about  forty  years  of  age ;  a  native  of  Scotland,  liberally  edu- 
cated, and  who  had  devoted  himself  to  the  instruction  of  youth 
from  taste  rather  than  necessity ;  for,  as  he  said,  he  loved  the 
human  heart,  and  delighted  to  study  it  in  its  earlier  impulses. 
My  two  elder  sisters,  having  returned  home  from  a  city  board- 
ing-school, were  likewise  placed  under  his  care,  to  direct  their 
reading  in  history  and  belle-lettres. 

We  all  soon  became  attached  to  Glencoe.  It  is  true,  we  were 
at  first  somewhat  prepossessed  against  him.  His  meagre,  pal- 
lid countenance,  his  broad  pronunciation,  his  inattention  to 
the  httle  forms  of  society,  and  an  awkward  and  embarrassed 
manner,  on  first  acquaintance^  were  much  against  him;  but 
we  soon  discovered  that  under  this  unpromising  exterior  existed 
the  kindest  urbanity  of  temper ;  the  warmest  sympathies ;  the 
most  enthusiastic  benevolence.  His  mind  was  ingenious  and 
acute.  His  reading  had  been  various,  but  more  abstruse  than 
profound ;  his  memory  was  stored,  on  all  subjects,  with  facts, 
theories,  and  quotations,  and  crowded  with  crude  materials  for 
thinking.  These,  in  a  moment  of  excitement,  would  be,  as  it 
were,  melted  down,  and  poured  forth  in  the  lava  of  a  heated 
unagmation.  At  such  moments,  the  change  in  the  whole  man 
was  wonderful.  His  meagre  form  would  acquire  a  dignity  and 
grace ;  his  long,  pale  visage  would  flash  with  a  hectic  glow ;  his 
eyes  would  beam  with  intense  speculation ;  and  there  would  be 
pathetic  tones  and  deep  modulations  in  his  voice,  that  delighted 
the  ear,  and  spoke  movingly  to  the  heart. 

But  what  most  endeared  him  to  us  was  the  kindness  and 
sympathy  with  which  he  entered  into  all  our  interests  and 
wishes.  Instead  of  curbing  and  checking  oiu'  young  imagina- 
tions with  the  reins  of  sober  reason,  he  was  a  httle  too  apt  to 
catch  the  impulse  and  be  hurried  away  with  us.  He  could  not 
withstand  the  excitement  of  any  sally  of  feeling  or  fancy,  and 
was  prone  to  lend  heightening  tints  to  the  illusive  coloring  of 
youthful  anticipations. 

Under  his  guidance  my  sisters  and  myself  soon  entered  upon 
a  more  extended  range  of  studies ;  but  while  they  wandered, 
with  delighted  minds,  through  the  wide  field  of  history  and 
belles-lettres,  a  nobler  walk  was  opened  to  my  superior  intel- 
lect. 

The  mind  of  Glencoe  presented  a  singular  mixture  of  phi- 


10 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


losophy  and  poetry.  He  was  fond  of  metaphysics  and  prone 
to  indulge  in  abstract  speculations,  though  his  metaphysics 
were  somewhat  fine  spun  and  fanciful,  and  his  speculations 
were  apt  to  partake  of  what  my  father  most  irreverently 
termed  "humbug."  For  my  part,  I  delighted  in  them,  and 
the  more  especially  because  they  set  my  father  to  sleep  and 
completely  confounded  my  sisters.  I  entered  with  my  accus- 
tomed eagerness  into  this  new  branch  of  study.  Metaphysics 
were  now  my  passion.  My  sisters  attempted  to  accompany 
me,  but  they  soon  faltered,  and  gave  out  before  they  had  got 
half  way  through  Smith's  Theory  of  the  Moral  Sentiments.  I, 
however,  went  on,  exulting  in  my  strength.  Glencoe  supplied 
me  with  books,  and  I  devoured  them  with  appetite,  if  not  diges- 
tion. We  walked  and  talked  together  under  the  trees  before 
the  house,  or  sat  apart,  Hke  Milton's  angels,  and  held  high  con- 
verse upon  themes  beyond  the  grasp  of  ordinary  intellects. 
Glencoe  possessed  a  kind  of  philosophic  chivalry,  in  imitation 
of  the  old  peripatetic  sages,  and  was  continually  dreaming  of 
romantic  enterprises  in  morals,  and  splendid  systems  for  the 
improvement  of  society.  He  had  a  fanciful  mode  of  illustrat- 
ing abstract  subjects,  peculiarly  to  my  taste;  clothing  them 
with  the  language  of  poetry,  and  throAving  round  them  almost 
the  magic  hues  of  fiction.  "  How  charming, "  thought  T,  "is 
divine  philosophy not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  sup- 
pose, 

"  But  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar'd  sweets, 
Whei-e  uo  crude  surfeit  reigns." 

I  felt  a  wonderful  self-complacency  at  being  on  such  excel- 
lent terms  with  a  man  whom  I  considered  on  a  parallel  with 
the  sages  of  antiquity,  and  looked  down  with  a  sentiment  of 
pity  on  the  feebler  intellects  of  my  sisters,  who  could  compre- 
hend nothing  of  metaphysics.  It  is  true,  when  I  attempted  to 
study  them  by  myself,  I  was  apt  to  get  in  a  fog ;  but  when 
Glencoe  came  to  my  aid,  everything  was  soon  as  clear  to  me 
as  day.  My  ear  drank  in  the  beauty  of  his  words ;  my  imagi- 
nation was  dazzled  with  the  splendor  of  his  illustrations.  It 
caught  up  the  sparkhng  sands  of  poetry  that  glittered  through 
his  speculations,  and  mistook  them  for  the  golden  ore  of  wis- 
dom. Struck  with  the  facihty  with  which  I  seemed  to  imbibe 
and  relish  the  most  abstract  doctrines,  I  conceived  a  still  higher 
opinion  of  my  mental  powers,  and  was  convinced  that  I  also 
•was  a  philosopher. 


M0U2s'TJ0T. 


ii 


I  was  now  verging  toward  man's  estate,  and  though  my  edu- 
cation had  been  extremely  irregular — following  the  caprices  of 
my  humor,  which  1  mistook  for  the  impulses  of  my  genius — 
yet  I  was  regarded  with  wonder  and  dehght  by  my  mother  and 
sisters,  who  considered  me  almost  as  wise  and  infallible  as  I 
considered  myself.  Tliis  high  opinion  of  me  was  strengthened 
by  a  declamatory  habit,  wliich  made  me  an  oracle  and  orator ' 
at  the  domestic  board.  The  time  was  now  at  hand,  however, 
that  was  to  put  my  philosophy  to  the  test. 

We  had  passed  through  a  long  winter,  and  the  spring  at 
length  opened  upon  us  with  unusual  sweetness.  The  soft 
serenity  of  the  weather ;  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try;  the  joyous  notes  of  the  birds;  the  bahny  breath  of  flower 
and  blossom,  all  combined  to  fill  my  bosom  with  indistinct  sen- 
sations, and  nameless  wishes.  Amid  the  soft  seductions  of  the 
season,  I  lapsed  into  a  state  of  utter  indolence,  both  of  body 
and  mind. 

Pliilosophy  had  lost  its  charms  for  me.  Metaphysics— faugh  I 
I  tried  to  study ;  took  down  volume  after  volume,  ran  my  eye 
vacantly  over  a  few  pages,  and  threw  them  by  with  distaste. 
I  loitered  about  the  house,  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  and 
an  air  of  complete  vacancy.  Something  v/as  necessary  to  make 
me  happy;  but  what  was  that  something?  I  sauntered  to  the 
apartments  of  my  sisters,  hoping  their  conversation  might 
amuse  me.  They  had  walked  out,  and  the  room  was  vacant. 
On  the  table  lay  a  volume  which  they  had  been  reading.  It 
was  a  novel.  I  had  never  read  a  novel,  having  conceived  a 
contempt  for  works  of  the  kind,  from  hearing  them  universally 
condemned.  It  is  true,  I  had  remarked  that  they  were  as  uni- 
versally read ;  but  I  considered  them  beneath  the  attention  of 
a  philosopher,  and  never  would  venture  to  read  them,  lest  I 
should  lessen  my  mental  superiority  in  the  eyes  of  my  sisters. 
Nay,  I  had  taken  up  a  work  of  the  kind  now  and  then,  when  I 
knew  my  sisters  were  obsei-ving  me,  looked  into  it  for  a  mo- 
ment,  and  then  laid  it  down,  -with  a  shght  supercihous  smile. 
On  the  present  occasion,  out  of  mere  listlessness,  I  took  up  the 
volume  and  turned  over  a  few  of  the  first  pages.  I  thought  I 
heard  some  one  coming,  and  laid  it  down.  I  was  mistaken ;  no 
one  was  near,  and  what  I  had  read,  tempted  my  curiosity  to 
read  a  httle  further.  I  leaned  against  a  window-frame,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  was  completely  lost  in  the  story.  How  long  I 
stood  there  reading  I  know  not,  but  I  believe  for  nearly  two 
hours.    Suddenly  I  heard  my  sisters  on  the  stairs,  when  I 


12 


THE  CUAYON  PAPEHS. 


thrust  the  book  into  my  bosom,  and  the  two  other  volumes 
which  lay  near  into  my  pockets,  and  hurried  out  of  the  house 
to  my  beloved  woods.  Here  I  remained  all  day  beneath  the 
trees,  bewildered,  bewitched,  devouring  the  contents  of  these 
dehcious  volumes,  and  only  returned  to  the  house  when  it  was 
too  dark  to  peruse  their  pages. 

This  novel  finished,  I  replaced  it  in  my  sisters'  apartment, 
and  looked  for  others.  Their  stock  was  amx^le,  for  they  had 
brought  home  all  that  were  current  in  the  city ;  but  my  appe- 
tite demanded  an  inmaense  supply.  All  this  course  of  reading 
was  carried  on  clandestinely,  for  I  was  a  little  ashamed  of  it, 
and  fearful  that  my  wisdom  might  be  called  in  question ;  but 
this  very  privacy  gave  it  additional  zest.  It  was  ' '  bread  eaten 
in  secret it  had  the  charm  of  a  private  amour. 

But  think  what  must  have  been  the  eifect  of  such  a  course  of 
reading  on  a  youth  of  my  temperament  and  turn  of  mind ;  in- 
dulged, too,  amid  romantic  scenery  and  in  the  romantic  season 
of  the  year.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  entered  upon  a  new  scene 
of  existence.  A  train  of  combustible  feelings  were  hghted  up 
in  me,  and  my  soul  was  all  tenderness  and  passion.  Never 
was  youth  more  completely  love-sick,  though  as  yet  it  was  a 
mere  general  sentiment,  and  wanted  a  definite  object.  Unfor- 
tunately, our  neighborhood  was  particularly  deficient  in  female 
society,  and  I  languished  in  vain  for  some  divinity  to  whom  I 
might  offer  up  this  most  uneasy  burden  of  affections.  I  was  at 
one  time  seriously  enamored  of  a  lady  whom  I  saw  occasion- 
ally in  my  rides,  reading  at  the  window  of  a  country-seat ;  and 
actually  serenaded  her  with  my  flute ;  when,  to  my  confusion, 
I  discovered  that  she  was  old  enough  to  be  my  mother.  It  was 
a  sad  damper  to  my  romance ;  especially  as  my  father  heard 
of  it,  and  made  it  the  subject  of  one  of  those  household  jokes 
which  he  was  apt  to  serve  up  at  every  meal-time. 

I  soon  recovered  from  this  check,  however,  but  it  was  only 
to  relapse  into  a  state  of  amorous  excitement.  I  passed  whole 
days  in  the  fields,  and  along  the  brooks;  for  there  is  something 
in  the  tender  passion  that  makes  us  alive  to  the  beauties  of 
nature.  A  soft  sunshiny  morning  infused  a  sort  of  rapture 
into  my  breast.  I  flung  open  my  arms,  like  the  Grecian  youth 
in  Ovid,  as  if  I  would  take  in  and  embrace  the  balmy  atmos- 
phere.* The  song  of  the  birds  melted  me  to  tenderness.  I 
would  lie  by  the  side  of  some  rivulet  for  hours,  and  form  gar- 


♦  Ovid's  *'  Metamorphoses."  Book  vil 


MOUNT  JOY. 


13 


lands  of  the  flowers  on  its  banks,  and  muse  on  ideal  beauties, 
and  sigh  from  the  crowd  of  undefined  emotions  that  swelled 
my  bosom. 

In  this  state  of  amorous  delirium,  I  was  strolling  one  morn- 
ing along  a  beautiful  wild  brook,  which  I  had  discovered  in  a 
glen.  There  was  one  place  where  a  small  waterfall,  leaping 
from  among  rocks  into  a  natural  basin,  made  a  scene  such  as  a 
poet  might  have  chosen  as  the  haunt  of  some  shy  Naiad.  It 
was  here  I  usually  retired  to  banquet  on  my  novels.  In  visiting 
the  place  this  morning  I  traced  distinctly,  on  the  margin  of  the 
basm,  which  was  of  fine  clear  sand,  the  prints  of  a  female  foot 
of  the  most  slender  and  delicate  proportions.  This  was  suffi- 
cient for  an  imagination  hke  mine.  Robinson  Crusoe  himself, 
when  he  discovered  the  print  of  a  savage  foot  on  the  beach  of 
liis  lonely  island,  could  not  have  been  more  suddenly  assailed 
with  thick-conung  fancies. 

I  endeavored  to  track  the  steps,  but  they  only  passed  for  a 
few  paces  along  the  fine  sand,  and  then  were  lost  among  the 
herbage.  I  remained  gazing  in  reverie  upon  this  passing  trace 
of  lovehness.  It  evidently  was  not  made  by  any  of  my  sisters, 
for  they  knew  nothing  of  this  haunt;  beside,  the  foot  was 
smaller  than  theirs;  it  was  remarkable  for  its  beautiful  deli- 
cacy. 

My  eye  accidentally  caught  two  or  three  half -withered  wild 
flowers  lying  on  the  ground.  The  unknown  nymph  had 
doubtless  dropped  them  from  her  bosom!  Here  was  a  new 
document  of  taste  and  sentiment.  I  treasured  them  up  as 
invaluable  rehcs.  The  place,  too,  where  I  found  them,  was 
remarkably  picturesque,  and  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the 
brook.  It  was  overhung  with  a  fine  elm,  entwined  with  gi^ape- 
vines.  She  who  could  select  such  a  spot,  who  could  dehght  in 
wild  brooks,  and  wild  flowers,  and  silent  solitudes,  must  have 
fancy,  and  feeling,  and  tenderness ;  and  with  all  these  qualities, 
she  must  be  beautiful  I 

But  who  could  be  this  Unknown,  that  had  thus  passed  by,  as 
in  a  morning  dream,  leaving  merely  flowers  and  f any  footsteps 
to  tell  of  her  lovehness?  There  was  a  mystery  in  it  that  be- 
wildered me.  It  was  so  vague  and  disembodied,  hke  those 
"airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names"  in  solitude.  Every 
attempt  to  solve  the  mystery  was  vain.  I  could  hear  of  no 
being  in  the  neighborhood  to  whom  this  trace  could  be 
ascribed.  I  haunted  the  spot,  and  became  daily  more  and 
more  enamored.    Never,  surely^  was  passion  more  pure  and 


14 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


spii'itual,  and  never  lover  in  more  dubious  situation.    My  case 
could  be  compared  only  to  that  of  the  amorous  prince  in  the 
fairy  tale  of  Cinderella ;  but  he  had  a  glass  sHpper  on  which  to 
lavish  his  tenderness.    I,  alas !  was  in  love  with  a  footstep ! 
The  imagination  is  alternately  a  cheat  and  a  dupe;  nay, 

more,  it  is  the  most  subtle  of  cheats,  for  it  cheats  itself  and 
becomes  the  dupe  of  its  own  delusions.  It  conjures  up  "airy 
nothings,"  gives  to  them  a  "local  habitation  and  a  name,"  and 
then  bows  to  their  control  as  implicitly  as  though  they  were 
realities.  Such  was  now  my  case.  The  good  Numa  could  not 
more  thoroughly  have  persuaded  himself  that  the  nymph 
Egeria  hovered  about  her  sacred  fountain  and  communed  with 
him  in  spirit,  than  I  had  deceived  myself  into  a  kind  of  vision- 
ary intercourse  with  the  airy  phantom  fabricated  in  my  brain. 
I  constructed  a  rustic  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  where  I  had 
discovered  the  footsteps.  I  made  a  kind  of  bower  there,  where 
I  used  to  pass  my  mornings  reading  poetry  and  romances.  I 
carved  hearts  and  darts  on  the  tree,  and  hung  it  with  garlands. 
My  heart  was  full  to  overflowing,  and  wanted  some  faithful 
bosom  into  which  it  might  relieve  itself.  What  is  a  lover 
without  a  confidante?  I  thought  at  once  of  my  sister  Sophy, 
my  early  playmate,  the  sister  of  my  affections.  She  was  so 
reasonable,  too,  and  of  such  correct  feelings,  always  listening 
to  my  words  as  oracular  sayings,  and  admiring  my  scraps  of 
poetry  as  the  very  inspirations  of  the  muse.  From  such  a  de- 
voted, such  a  rational  being,  what  secrets  could  I  have? 

I  accordingly  took  her  one  morning  to  my  favorite  retreat. 
She  looked  around,  with  delighted  surprise,  upon  the  rustic 
seat,  the  bower,  the  tree  carved  with  emblems  of  the  tender 
passion.   She  turned  her  eyes  upon  me  to  inquire  the  meaning. 

"  Oh,  Sophy,"  exclaimed  I,  clasping  both  her  hands  in  mine, 
and  looking  earnestly  in  her  face,  "I  am  in  love." 

She  started  with  surprise. 

"Sit  down,"  said  I,  "and  I  %vill  teU  you  all." 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  rustic  bench,  and  I  went  into  a 
full  history  of  the  footstep,  with  all  the  associations  of  idea 
that  had  been  conjured  up  by  my  imagination. 

Sophy  was  enchanted ;  it  was  like  a  fairy  tale ;  she  had  read 
of  such  mysterious  visitations  in  books,  and  the  loves  thus  con- 
ceived were  always  for  beings  of  superior  order,  and  were 
always  happy.  She  caught  the  illusion  in  all  its  force;  her 
cheek  glowed ;  her  eye  brightened. 


MOUNT  JOY. 


15 


I  dare  say  she's  pretty,"  said  Sophy. 

"Pretty!"  echoed  I,  **she  is  beautiful!"  I  went  through  all 
the  reasoning  by  which  I  had  logically  proved  the  fact  to  my 
own  satisfaction.  I  dwelt  upon  the  evidences  of  her  taste,  her 
sensibihty  to  the  beauties  of  nature ;  her  soft  meditative  habit, 
that  dehghted  in  sohtude.  "Oh,"  said  I,  clasping  my  hands, 
' '  to  have  such  a  companion  to  wander  through  these  scenes ; 
to  sit  with  her  by  this  murmuring  stream ;  to  wreathe  garlands 
round  her  brows ;  to  hear  the  music  of  her  voice  minghng  with 
the  whisperings  of  these  groves ;  to — " 

"Delightful!  delightful !"  cried  Sophy;  "what  a  sweet  crea- 
ture she  must  be !  She  is  just  the  friend  I  want.  How  I  shaU 
dote  upon  her !  Oh,  my  dear  brother !  you  must  not  keep  her 
all  to  yourseK.    You  must  let  me  have  some  share  of  her !" 

I  caught  her  to  my  bosom:  "  You  shaU— you  shall!"  cried  I, 
"my  dear  Sophy;  we  wiU  aU  live  for  each  other!" 


The  conversation  with  Sophy  heightened  the  illusions  of  my 
mind;  and  the  manner  in  which  she  had  treated  my  day- 
dream identified  it  with  facts  and  persons  and  gave  it  still 
more  the  stamp  of  reahty.  I  walked  about  as  one  in  a  trance, 
heedless  of  the  world  around,  and  lapped  in  an  elysium  of  the 
fancy. 

In  tills  mood  I  met  one  morning  with  Glencoe.  He  accosted 
me  with  his  usual  smile,  and  was  proceeding  with  some  gene- 
ral observations,  but  paused  and  fixed  on  me  an  inquiring  eye. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  said  he,  "you  seem  agi- 
tated ;  has  anything  in  particular  happened?" 

"Nothing,"  said  I,  hesitating;  "  at  least  nothing  worth  com- 
municating to  you. " 

"Nay,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  he,  "whatever  is  of 
sufficient  importance  to  agitate  you  is  worthy  of  being  com- 
municated to  me." 

' '  Well ;  but  my  thoughts  are  running  on  what  you  would 
think  a  frivolous  subject." 

"No  subject  is  frivolous  that  has  the  power  to  awaken 
strong  feehngs." 

"What  think  you,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "what  think  you  of 
love?" 

Glencoe  almost  started  at  the  question.  "Do  you  caU  that 
a  frivolous  subject?"  replied  he.  "Befieve  me,  there  is  none 
fraught  Avith  such  deep,  such  vital  interest.     If  you  talk. 


IG 


THE  C RATON  PAPERS. 


indeed,  of  the  capricious  inclination  awakened  by  the  mere 
charm  of  perishable  beauty,  I  grant  it  to  be  idle  in  the  ex- 
treme; but  that  love  which  springs  fi'om  the  concordant 
sympathies  of  virtuous  hearts;  that  love  which  is  awakened 
by  the  perception  of  moral  excellence,  and  fed  by  meditation 
on  intellectual  as  weU  as  personal  beauty;  that  is  a  passion 
which  refines  and  ennobles  the  human  heart.  Oh,  "svhere  is 
there  a  sight  more  nearly  approaching  to  the  iatercourse  of 
angels,  than  that  of  two  young  beings,  free  from  the  suis 
and  foUies  of  the  world,  mingluig  pure  thoughts,  and  looks, 
and  feeliags,  and  becoming  as  it  were  soul  of  one  soul  and 
heart  of  one  heart!  How  exquisite  the  silent  converse  that 
they  hold ;  the  soft  devotion  of  the  eye,  that  needs  no  words 
to  make  it  eloquent!  Yes,  my  friend,  if  there  be  anything 
in  this  weary  ^vorld  worthy  of  heaven,  it  is  the  pure  bliss  of 
such  a  mutual  affection !'' 

The  words  of  my  worthy  tutor  overcame  all  farther  re- 
serve. "Mr.  Glencoe,"  cried  I,  blushing  stiU  deeper,  "I  am 
in  love. " 

"And  is  that  what  you  were  ashamed  to  tell  me?  Oh, 
never  seek  to  conceal  from  your  friend  so  important  a  secret. 
If  your  passion  be  unworthy,  it  is  for  the  steady  hand  of 
friendship  to  pluck  it  forth ;  if  honorable,  none  but  an  enemy 
would  seek  to  stifle  it.  On  nothing  does  the  character  and 
happiness  so  much  depend  as  on  the  first  affection  of  the 
heart.  Were  you  caught  by  some  fleetmg  and  superficial 
charm — a  bright  eye,  a  bloormng  cheek,  a  soft  voice,  or  a 
voluptuous  form— I  would  warn  you  to  beware ;  I  would  tell 
you  that  beauty  is  but  a  passing  gleam  of  the  morning,  a 
perishable  flower;  that  accident  may  becloud  and  bhght  it, 
and  that  at  best  it  must  soon  pass  away.  But  were  you  in 
love  with  such  a  one  as  I  coidd  describe ;  young  in  yeai-s,  but 
still  younger  in  f eehngs ;  lovely  in  person,  but  as  a  type  of  the 
mind's  beauty ;  soft  in  voice,  in  token  of  gentleness  of  spirit ; 
blooming  in  countenance,  hke  the  rosy  tints  of  morning  kind- 
ling with  the  promise  of  a  genial  day ;  and  eye  beaming  with 
the  benignity  of  a  happy  heart ;  a  cheerful  temper,  auve  to  all 
kind  impulses,  and  frankly  diffusing  its  own  f ehcity ;  a  self- 
poised  mind,  that  needs  not  lean  on  others  for  support ;  an  ele- 
gant taste,  that  can  embeUish  sohtude,  and  furnish  out  its  own 
enjoyments — " 

"My  dear  sir,"  cried  I,  for  I  could  contain  myself  no  longer, 
you  have  described  the  very  person!" 


WOUNTJOY. 


17 


*'  Why,  then,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  he,  affectionately 
pressing  my  hand,  "  in  God's  name,  love  on!" 


For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  was  in  some  such  state  of 
dreamy  beatitude  as  a  Turk  is  said  to  enjoy  when  under  the 
influence  of  opium.  It  must  be  already  manifest  how  prone  I 
was  to  bewilder  myself  with  picturings  of  the  fancy,  so  as  to 
confound  them  with  existing  realities.  In  the  present  instance, 
Sophy  and  Glencoe  had  contributed  to  promote  the  transient 
delusion.  Sophy,  dear  girl,  had  as  usual  joined  with  me  in 
my  castle-building,  and  indulged  in  the  same  train  of  imagin- 
ings, while  Glencoe,  duped  by  my  enthusiasm,  firmly  beheved 
that  I  spoke  of  a  being  I  had  seen  and  known.  By  their  sym- 
pathy with  my  feehngs  they  in  a  manner  became  associated 
with  the  Unknown  in  my  mind,  and  thus  linked  her  with  the 
circle  of  my  intimacy. 

In  the  evening,  our  family  party  was  assembled  in  the  hall, 
to  enjoy  the  refreshing  breeze.  Sophy  was  playing  some 
favorite  Scotch  airs  on  the  piano,  while  Glencoe,  seated  apart, 
with  his  forehead  resting  on  his  hand,  was  buried  in  one  of 
those  pensive  reveries  that  made  Mm  so  interesting  to  me. 

"What  a  fortunate  being  I  am!"  thought  I,  "blessed  v/ith 
such  a  sister  and  such  a  friend !  I  have  only  to.  find  out  this 
amiable  Unknown,  to  wed  her,  and  be  happy !  What  a  para- 
dise will  be  my  home,  graced  with  a  partner  of  such  exquisite 
refinement!  It  wiU  be  a  perfect  fairy  bower,  buried  among 
sweets  and  roses.  Sophy  shall  live  with  us,  and  be  the  com- 
panion of  all  our  enjoyment.  Glencoe,  too,  shall  no  more  be 
the  solitary  being  that  he  now  appears.  He  shall  have  a 
home  with  us.  He  shall  have  his  study,  where,  when  he 
pleases,  he  may  shut  himself  up  from  the  world,  and  bury  him- 
self in  his  own  reflections.  His  retreat  shall  be  sacred;  no 
one  shall  intmde  there;  no  one  but  myself,  who  will  visit 
him  now  and  then,  in  his  seclusion,  where  we  wiU  devise 
grand  schemes  togetker  for  the  improvement  of  mankind. 
How  dehghtfuUy  our  days  will  pass,  in  a  round  of  rational 
pleasures  and  elegant  employments !  Sometimes  we  will  have 
music;  sometmies  we  will  read;  sometimes  we  '^\dll  wander 
through  the  flower  garden,  when  I  will  smile  with  complacency 
on  every  flower  my  wife  has  planted ;  while  in  the  long  winter 
evenings  the  ladies  will  sit  at  their  work,  and  listen  with 
hushed  attention  to  Glencoe  and  myself,  as  we  discuss  the 
abstruse  doctrines  of  metaphysics." 


18- 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS, 


From  this  delectable  reverie,  I  was  startled  by  my  father's 
slapping  me  on  the  shoulder:  "  What  possesses  the  lad?"  cried 
he;  "here  have  I  been  speaking  to  you  half  a  dozen  times, 
without  receiving  an  answer." 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  replied  I;  "I  was  so  completely  lost  in 
thought,  that  I  did  not  hear  you." 

"Lost  in  thought!  And  pray  what  were  you  thinking  of? 
Some  of  your  philosophy,  I  suppose." 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  my  sister  Charlotte,  with  an  arch 
laugh,  "I  suspect  Harry's  in  love  again." 

"And  if  I  were  in  love,  Charlotte,"  said  I,  somewhat  net- 
tled, and  recollecting  Glencoe's  enthusiastic  eulogy  of  the  pas- 
sion, "if  I  were  in  love,  is  that  a  matter  of  jest  and  laughter? 
Is  the  tenderest  and  most  fervid  affection  that  can  animate 
the  human  breast,  to  be  made  a  matter  of  cold-hearted  ridi- 
cule?" 

My  sister  colored.  "  Certainly  not,  brother  I— nor  did  I  mean 
to  make  it  so,  or  to  say  anything  that  should  wound  your  feel- 
ings. Had  I  really  suspected  you  had  formed  some  genuine 
attachment,  it  would  have  been  sacred  in  my  eyes ;  but — but, " 
said  she,  smiling,  as  if  at  some  whimsical  recollection,  "I 
thought  that  you — you  might  be  indulging  in  another  httle 
freak  of  the  imagination. " 

"  I'll  wager  any  money,"  cried  my  father,  "  he  has  fallen  in 
love  again  with  some  old  lady  at  a  window  I" 

"Oh  no !"  cried  my  dear  sister  Sophy,  with  the  most  gracious 
warmth ;  ' '  she  is  young  and  beautiful. " 

"From  what  I  understand,"  said  Glencoe,  rousing  himself, 
"she  must  be  lovely  in  mind  as  in  person." 

I  found  my  friends  were  getting  me  into  a  fine  scrape.  I 
began  to  perspire  at  every  pore,  and  felt  my  ears  tingle. 

"Well,  but,"  cried  my  father,  "who  is  she? — ^what  is  she? 
Let  us  hear  something  about  her. " 

This  was  no  time  to  explain  so  dehcate  a  matter.  I  caught 
up  my  hat,  and  vanished  out  of  the  hou^. 

The  moment  I  was  in  the  open  air,  and  alone,  my  heart  up- 
braided me.  Was  this  respectful  treatment  to  my  father — to 
such  a  father,  too — who  had  always  regarded  me  as  the  pride 
of  his  age — the  staff  of  liis  hopes  ?  It  is  true,  he  was  apt  some- 
times to  laugh  at  my  enthusiastic  flights,  and  did  not  treat  my 
philosophy  with  due  respect ;  but  when  had  he  ever  thwarted 
a  wish  of  my  heart  ?  Was  I  then  to  act  with  reserve  toward 
him,  in  a  matter  which  might  affect  the  whole  current  of  my 


MOUNT  JOY. 


IC 


future  life?  '*I  have  done  wrong,"  thought  I;  "but  it  is  not 
too  late  to  remedy  it.  I  will  hasten  back  and  open  my  whole 
heart  to  my  father !" 

I  returned  accordingly,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  entering 
the  house,  with  my  heart  full  of  filial  piety,  and  a  contrite 
speech  upon  my  lips,  when  I  heard  a  burst  of  obstreperous 
laughter  from  my  father,  and  a  loud  titter  from  my  two  elder 
sisters. 

"A  footstep!"  shouted  he,  as  soon  as  he  could  recover  him- 
seK;  "in  love  with  a  footstep!  Why,  this  beats  the  old  lady  at 
the  window !"  And  then  there  was  another  appaUing  burst  of 
laughter.  Had  it  been  a  clap  of  thunder,  it  could  hardly  have 
astounded  me  more  completely.  Sophy,  in  the  simphcity  of 
her  heart,  had  told  all,  and  had  set  my  father's  risible  pro- 
pensities in  full  action. 

Never  was  poor  mortal  so  thoroughly  crestfallen  as  myself. 
The  whole  delusion  was  at  an  end.  I  drew  off  silently  from  the 
house,  shrinking  smaller  and  smaller  at  every  fresh  peal  of 
laughter;  and  wandering  about  until  the  family  had  retired, 
stole  quietly  to  my  bed.  Scarce  any  sleep,  however,  visited 
my  eyes  that  night!  I  lay  overwhelmed  with  mortification, 
and  meditatmg  how  I  might  meet  the  family  in  the  morning. 
The  idea  of  ridicule  was  always  intolerable  to  me;  but  to 
endure  it  on  a  subject  by  which  my  feelings  had  been  so  much 
excited,  seemed  worse  than  death.  I  almost  determined,  at 
one  time,  to  get  up,  saddle  my  horse,  and  ride  off,  I  knew  not 
whither. 

At  length  I  came  to  a  resolution.  Before  going  down  to 
breakfast,  I  sent  for  Sophy,  and  employed  her  as  ambassador 
to  treat  formally  in  the  matter.  I  insisted  that  the  subject 
shoidd  be  buried  in  oblivion ;  otherwise  I  would  not  show  my 
face  at  table.  It  was  readily  agreed  to;  for  not  one  of  the 
family  would  have  given  me  pain  for  the  world.  They  faith- 
fully kept  their  promise.  Not  a  word  was  said  of  the  matter ; 
but  there  were  wry  faces,  and  suppressed  titters,  that  went  to 
my  soul;  and  whenever  my  father  looked  me  in  the  face,  it 
was  with  such  a  tragi-comical  leer — such  an  attempt  to  pull 
down  a  serious  brow  upon  a  whimsical  mouth — that  I  had  a 
thousand  times  rather  he  had  laughed  ©utright. 


For  a  day  or  two  after  the  mortifying  occurrence  just  re- 
lated, I  kept  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  way  of  the  famil5^ 


20 


THE  CRAYOJY  PAPERS. 


and  wandered  about  the  fields  and  woods  by  myself.  I  was 
sadly  out  of  tune ;  my  feelings  were  all  jarred  and  mistrung. 
The  bu'ds  sang  from  CA^ery  grove,  but  I  took  no  pleasure  in 
their  melody ;  and  the  flowers  of  the  field  bloomed  unheeded 
around  me.  To  be  crossed  in  love,  is  bad  enough;  but  then 
one  can  fly  to  poetry  for  relief,  and  turn  one's  woes  to  account 
in  soul-subduing  stanzas.  But  to  have  one's  whole  passion, 
object  and  all,  anniliilated,  dispelled,  proved  to  be  such  stuff  as 
dreams  are  made  of — or,  worse  than  all,  to  be  turned  into  a 
proverb  and  a  jest — what  consolation  is  there  in  such  a  case  ? 

I  avoided  the  fatal  brook  where  I  had  seen  the  footstep.  My 
favorite  resort  was  now  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  where  I  sat 
upon  the  rocks  and  mused  upon  the  current  that  dimpled  by, 
or  the  waves  that  laved  the  shore;  or  watched  the  bright 
mutations  of  the  clouds,  and  the  shifting  lights  and  shadows 
of  the  distant  mountain.  By  degrees  a  returning  serenity 
stole  over  my  feelings ;  and  a  sigh  now  and  then,  gentle  and 
easy,  and  unattended  by  pain,  showed  that  my  heart  was  re- 
covering its  susceptibility. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  this  musing  mood  my  eye  became  gra- 
dually fixed  upon  an  object  that  was  borne  along  by  the  tide. 
It  proved  to  be  a  little  pimiace,  beautifully  modelled,  and 
gayly  painted  and  decorated.  It  was  an  unusual  sight  in  this 
neighborhood,  which  was  rather  lonely ;  indeed,  it  was  rare  to 
see  any  pleasure-barks  in  this  part  of  the  river.  As  it  drew 
nearer,  I  perceived  that  there  was  no  one  on  board ;  it  had 
apparently  drilted  from  its  anchorage.  There  was  not  a  breath 
of  air ;  the  little  bark  came  floating  along  on  the  glassy  stream, 
wheehng  about  ^vith  the  eddies.  At  length  It  ran  aground, 
almost  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  on  which  I  was  seated.  I  de- 
scended to  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  drawing  the  bark  to 
shore,  admired  its  light  and  elegant  proportions  and  the  taste 
with  which  it  was  fitted  up.  The  benches  were  covered  with 
cushions,  and  its  long  streamer  was  of  silk.  On  one  of  the 
cusliions  lay  a  lady's  glove,  of  deHcate  size  and  shape,  with 
beautifully  tapered  fingers.  I  instantly  seized  it  and  thrust  it 
in  my  bosom;  it  seemed  a  match  for  the  fairy  footstep  that 
had  so  fascinated  me. 

In  a  moment  aU  the  romance  of  my  bosom  was  again  in  a 
glow.  Here  was  one  of  the  very  incidents  of  fairy  tale ;  a  bark 
sent  by  some  invisible  power,  some  good  genius,  or  benevolent 
fairy,  to  waft  me  to  some  delectable  adventure.  I  recollected 
somethmg  of  an  enchanted  bark,  di-awn  by  white  swans,  that 


MOUNT  JOY. 


21 


conveyed  a  knight  down  the  current  of  the  Rhine,  on  some 
enterprise  connected  with  love  and  beauty.  The  glove,  too, 
showed  that  there  was  a  lady  fair  concerned  in  the  present 
adventure.  It  might  be  a  gauntlet  of  defiance,  to  dare  me  to 
the  enterprise. 

'  In  the  spirit  of  romance  and  the  whim  of  the  moment,  I 
sprang  on  board,  hoisted  the  hght  sail,  and  pushed  from  shore. 
As  if  breathed  by  some  presiding  power,  a  light  breeze  at  that 
moment  sprang  up,  swelled  out  the  sail,  and  dallied  with  the 
silken  streamer.  For  a  time  I  glided  along  under  steep  umbra- 
geous banks,  or  across  deep  sequestered  bays ;  and  then  stood 
out  over  a  wide  expansion  of  the  river  toward  a  high  rocky 
promontory.  It  was  a  lovely  evening ;  the  sun  was  setting  in 
a  congregation  of  clouds  tha.t  threw  the  w^hole  heavens  in  a 
glow,  and  were  reflected  in  the  river.  I  delighted  myself  with 
all  kinds  of  fantastic  fancies,  as  to  what  enchanted  island,  or 
mystic  bower,  or  necromantic  palace,  I  was  to  be  conveyed  by 
the  fairy  bark. 

In  the  revel  of  my  fancy  I  had  not  noticed  that  the  gorgeous 
congregation  of  clouds  which  had  so  much  dehghted  me  was 
in  fact  a  gathering  thunder-gust.  I  perceived  the  truth  too 
late.  The  clouds  came  hurrying  on,  darkening  as  they 
advanced.  The  whole  face  of  nature  was  suddenly  changed, 
and  assumed  that  baleful  and  hvid  tint,  predictive  of  a  storm. 
I  tried  to  gain  the  shore,  but  before  I  could  reach  it  a  blast  of 
wind  struck  the  water  and  lashed  it  at  once  into  foam.  The 
next  moment  it  overtook  the  boat.  Alas !  I  was  nothing  of  a 
sailor ;  and  my  protecting  fairy  forsook  me  in  the  moment  of 
peril.  I  endeavored  to  lower  the  sail ;  but  in  so  doing  I  had  to 
quit  the  helm ;  the  bark  was  overturned  in  an  instant,  and  I 
was  thrown  into  the  water.  I  endeavored  to  cling  to  the 
wreck,  but  missed  my  hold;  being  a  poor  swimmer,  I  soon 
found  myself  sinking,  but  grasped  a  light  oar  that  was  floating 
by  me.  It  was  not  sufficient  for  my  support;  I  again  sank 
beneath  the  surface ;  there  was  a  rushing  and  bubbhng  sound 
m  my  ears,  and  all  sense  forsook  me. 


How  long  I  remained  insensible,  I  know  not.  I  had  a  con- 
fused notion  of  being  moved  and  tossed  about,  and  of  hearing 
strange  beings  and  strange  voices  around  me ;  but  all  was  hke 
a  hideous  dream.  When  I  at  length  recovered  full  conscious- 
ness and  perception,  I  found  myself  in  bed  in  a  spacious  cham- 


22 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


ber,  furnished  with  more  taste  than  I  had  been  accustomed  to. 
The  bright  rays  of  a  morning  sun  were  intercepted  by  curtains 
of  a  dehcate  rose  color,  that  gave  a  soft,  voluptu(^us  tinge  to 
every  object.  Not  far  from  my  bed,  on  a  classic  tripod,  was  a 
basket  of  beautiful  exotic  flowers,  breathing  the  sweetest  fra- 
grance. 

' '  Where  am  I  ?   How  came  I  here  ?" 

I  tasked  my  mind  to  catch  at  some  previous  event,  from 
which  I  might  trace  up  the  thread  of  existence  to  the  present 
moment.  By  degrees  I  called  to  mind  the  fairy  pinnace,  my 
daring  embarkation,  my  adventurous  voyage,  and  my  disas- 
trous shipwreck.  Beyond  that,  all  was  chaos.  How  came  I 
here?  What  unknown  region  had  I  landed  upon?  The  people 
that  inhabited  it  must  be  gentle  and  amiable,  and  of  elegant 
tastes,  for  they  loved  downy  beds,  fragrant  flowers,  and  rose- 
colored  curtains. 

While  I  lay  thus  musing,  the  tones  of  a  harp  reached  my  ear. 
Presently  they  were  accompanied  by  a  female  voice.  It  came 
from  the  room  below;  but  in  the  profound  stillness  of  my 
chamber  not  a  modulation  was  lost.  My  sisters  were  aU  con- 
sidered good  musicians,  and  sang  very  tolerably ;  but  I  had 
never  heard  a  voice  like  this.  There  was  no  attempt  at  diffi- 
cult execution,  or  striking  effect;  but  there  were  exquisite 
inflections,  and  tender  turns,  which  art  could  not  reach. 
Nothing  but  feeling  and  sentiment  could  produce  them.  It 
was  soul  breathed  forth  in  sound.  I  was  always  alive  to  the 
influence  of  music;  indeed,  I  was  susceptible  of  voluptuous 
influences  of  every  kind— sounds,  colors,  shapes,  and  fra- 
grant odors.    I  was  the  very  slave  of  sensation. 

I  lay  mute  and  breathless,  and  drank  in  every  note  of  this 
siren  strain.  It  thrilled  through  my  whole  .frame,  and  filled 
my  soul  with  melody  and  love.  I  pictured  to  myself,  with 
curious  logic,  the  form  of  the  unseen  musician.  Such  melodi- 
ous sounds  and  exquisite  inflections  could  only  be  produced  by 
organs  of  the  most  dehcate  flexibility.  Such  organs  do  not 
belong  to  coarse,  viflgar  forms;  they  are  the  harmonious 
results  of  fair  proportions  and  admirable  symmetry.  A  being 
so  organized  must  be  lovely. 

Again  my  busy  imagination  was  at  work.  I  called  to 
mind  the  Arabian  story  of  a  prince,  borne  away  during  sleep 
by  a  good  genius,  to  the  distant  abode  of  a  princess  of  rav- 
ishing beauty.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  I  believed  in  hav- 
ing experienced  a  similar  transportation ;  but  it  was  my  invet- 


MOUNT  JOT. 


23 


crate  habit  to  cheat  myself  with  fancies  of  the  kind,  and  to 
give  the  tinge  of  illusion  to  surrounding  realities. 

The  witching  sound  had  ceased,  but  its  vibrations  still  played 
round  my  heart,  and  filled  it  with  a  tumult  of  soft  emotions. 
At  this  moment,  a  self-upbraiding  pang  shot  through  my 
bosom.  "Ah,  recreant!" a  voice  seemed  to  exclaim,  "is  this 
the  stability  of  thine  affections?  What !  hast  thou  so  soon  foi-- 
gotten  the  nymph  of  the  fountain?  Has  one  song,  idly  piped 
in  thine  ear,  been  sufficient  to  charm  away  the  cherished  ten- 
derness of  a  whole  summer?" 

The  wise  may  smile  —but  I  am  in  a  confiding  mood,  and  must 
confess  my  weakness.  I  felt  a  degree  of  compunction  at  this 
sudden  infidehty,  yet  I  could  not  resist  the  power  of  present 
fascination.  My  peace  of  mind  was  destroyed  by  conflicting 
claims.  The  nymph  of  the  fountain  came  over  my  memory, 
with  all  the  associations  of  fairy  footsteps,  shady  groves,  soft 
echoes,  and  wild  streamlets;  but  this  new  passion  was  pro- 
duced by  a  strain  of  soul-subduing  melody,  still  lingering  in  my 
ear,  aided  by  a  downy  bed,  fragrant  flowers,  and  rose-colored 
curtains.  "  Unhappy  youth !"  sighed  I  to  myself,  "distracted 
by  such  rival  passions,  and  the  empire  of  thy  heart  thus  vio- 
lently contested  by  the  sound  of  a  voice,  and  the  print  of  a 
footstep !" 


I  had  not  remained  long  in  this  mood,  when  I  heard  the  door 

of  the  room  gently  opened.  I  turned  my  head  to  see  what 
inhabitant  of  this  enchanted  palace  should  appear;  whether 
page  in  green,  hideous  dwarf,  or  haggard  fairy.  It  was  my 
own  man  Scipio.  He  advanced  with  cautious  step,  and  was 
delighted,  as  he  said,  to  find  me  so  much  myself  again.  My 
first  questions  were  as  to  where  I  was  and  how  I  came  there? 
Scipio  told  me  a  long  story  of  his  having  been  fishing  in  a 
canoe  at  the  time  of  my  hare-brained  cruise ;  of  his  noticing 
the  gathering  squall,  and  my  impending  danger;  of  his  has- 
tening to  join  me,  but  arriving  just  in  time  to  snatch  me  from 
a  watery  grave ;  of  the  great  difficulty  in  restoring  me  to  ani- 
mation :  and  of  my  being  subsequently  conveyed,  in  a  state  of 
insensibility,  to  this  mansion. 

"But  where  am  I?"  was  the  reiterated  demand. 

"  In  the  house  of  Mr.  Somerville." 

"  Somerville— Somerville !"  I  recollected  to  have  heard  that 
a  gentleman  of  that  name  had  recently  taken  up  his  residence 


24 


THE  CllATON  PAPEES. 


at  some  distance  from  my  father's  abode,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  Hudson.  He  was  commonly  known  by  the  name  of 
"  French  Somerville,"  from  having  passed  part  of  his  early  life 
in  France,  and  from  his  exhibiting  traces  of  French  taste  in 
his  mode  of  living,  and  the  arrangements  of  his  house,.  In 
fact,  it  was  in  his  pleasure-boat,  which  had  got  adrift,  that  I 
had  made  my  fanciful  and  disastrous  cruise.  All  this  was  sim- 
ple, straightforward  matter  of  fact,  and  threatened  to  demolish 
all  the  cobweb  romance  I  had  been  spinning,  when  fortunately 
I  again  heard  the  tinkling  of  a  harp.  I  raised  myself  in  bed, 
and  listened. 

"Scipio,"  said  I,  with  some  little  hesitation,  "I  heard  some 
one  singing  just  now.    Who  was  it?" 

"  Oh,  that  was  Miss  Julia." 
Julia!   Juha!   Delightful !  what  a  name !   And,  Scipio — is 
she— is  she  pretty  ?" 

Scipio  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  ''Except  Miss  Sophy,  she 
was  the  most  beautiful  young  lady  he  had  ever  seen. " 

I  should  observe,  that  my  sister  Sophia  was  considered  by 
all  the  servants  a  paragon  of  perfection. 

Scipio  now  offered  to  remove  the  basket  of  flowers ;  he  was 
afraid  their  odor  might  be  too  powerful;  but  Miss  Juha  had 
given  them  that  morning  to  be  placed  in  my  room. 

These  flowers,  then,  had  been  gathered  by  the  fairy  fingers 
of  my  unseen  beauty ;  that  sweet  breath  which  had  filled  my 
ear  with  melody  had  passed  over  them.  I  made  Scipio  hand 
them  to  me,  culled  several  of  the  most  delicate,  and  laid  them 
on  my  bosom. 

Mr.  Somerville  paid  me  a  visit  not  long  afterward.  He  was 
an  interesting  study  for  me,  for  he  was  the  father  of  my  imseen 
beauty,  and  probably  resembled  her.  I  scanned  him  closely. 
He  was  a  tall  and  elegant  man,  ^vith.  an  open,  affable  manner, 
and  an  erect  and  graceful  carriage.  His  eyes  were  bluish-gray, 
and  though  not  dark,  yet  at  times  were  sparkling  and  expres- 
sive. His  hair  was  dressed  and  powdered,  and  being  lightly 
combed  up  from  his  forehead,  added  to  the  loftiness  of  his 
aspect.  He  was  fluent  in  discourse,  but  his  conversation  had 
the  quiet  tone  of  polished  society,  without  any  of  those  bold 
flights  of  thought,  and  picturings  of  fancy,  which  I  so  much 
admired. 

My  imagination  was  a  Httle  puzzled,  at  first,  to  make  out  of 
this  assemblage  of  personal  and  mental  qualities,  a  picture  that 
should  harmonize  with  my  previous  idea  of  the  fair  imseen. 


MUUISTJOY. 


25 


By  Clint,  however,  of  selecting  what  it  liked,  and  giving  a  touch 
here  and  a  touch  there,  it  soon  furnished  out  a  satisfactory 
portrait. 

"Julia  must  be  tall,"  thought  I,  "  and  of  exquisite  grace  and 
dignity.  She  is  not  quite  so  courtly  as  her  father,  for  she  has 
been  brought  up  in  the  retirement  of  the  country.  Neither  is 
she  of  such  vivacious  deportment ;  for  the  tones  of  her  voico 
are  soft  and  plaintive,  and  she  loves  pathetic  music.  She  is 
rather  pensive — yet  not  too  pensive ;  just  what  is  called  inter- 
esting. Her  eyes  are  hke  her  father's,  except  that  they  are  of 
a  purer  blue,  and  more  tender  and  languishing.  She  has  hght 
hair — not  exactly  flaxen,  for  I  do  not  hke  flaxen  hair,  but 
between  that  and  auburn.  In  a  word,  she  is  a  tall,  elegant, 
imposing,  langLiishing,  blue-eyed,  romantic-looking  beauty." 
x^iid  having  thus  finished  her  picture,  I  felt  ten  times  more  in 
love  with  her  than  ever. 


I  felt  so  much  recovered  that  I  would  at  once  have  left 
my  room,  but  Mr.  Somerville  objected  to  it.  He  had  sent 
early  word  to  my  family  of  my  safety ;  and  my  father  arrived 
in  the  course  of  the  morning.  He  was  shocked  at  learning  the 
risk  I  had  run,  but  rejoiced  to  find  me  so  much  restored,  and 
was  warm  in  his  thanks  to  Mr.  Somerville  for  his  kindness. 
The  other  only  required,  in  return,  that  I  might  remain  two  or 
three  days  as  his  guest,  to  give  time  for  my  recovery,  and  for 
our  forming  a  closer  acqviaintance ;  a  request  which  my  father 
readily  granted.  Scipio  accordingly  accompanied  my  father 
home,  and  returned  with  a  supply  of  clothes,  and  with  affec- 
tionate letters  from  my  mother  and  sisters. 

The  next  morning,  aided  by  Scipio,  I  made  my  toilet  mth 
rather  more  care  than  usual,  and  descended  the  stairs  with 
some  trepidation,  eager  to  see  the  original  of  the  portrait  which 
had  been  so  completely  pictured  in  my  imagination. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  I  found  it  deserted.  Like  the  rest  of 
the  house,  it  was  furnished  in  a  foreign  style.  The  curtains 
were  of  French  silk;  there  were  Grecian  couches,  marble 
tables,  pier-glasses,  and  chandeliers.  What  chiefly  attracted 
my  eye,  were  documents  of  female  taste  that  I  saw  around 
me;  a  piano,  with  an  ample  stock  of  Italian  music:  a  book  of 
poetry  lying  on  the  sofa ;  a  vase  of  fresh  flowers  on  a  table,  and 
a  portf  oho  open  with  a  skilful  and  half -finished  sketch  of  them. 
In  the  window  was  a  canary  bird,  in  a  gilt  cage,  and  near  by. 


26 


THE  CUAYOJS  PxiPERS. 


the  harp  that  had  been  in  Julia's  arms.  Happy  harp !  But 
where  was  the  being  that  reigned  in  this  little  empire  of  deh- 
cacies? — that  breathed  poetry  and  song,  and  dwelt  among  birds 
and  flowers,  and  rose-colored  curtains? 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  hall  door  fly  open,  the  quick  pattering 
of  light  steps,  a  wild,  capricious  strain  of  music,  and  the  shrill 
barking  of  a  dog.  A  light,  frolic  nymph  of  fifteen  came  trip- 
ping into  the  room,  playing  on  a  flageolet,  with  a  little  spaniel 
romping  after  her.  Her  gipsy  hat  had  fallen  back  upon  her 
shoulders ;  a  profusion  of  glossy  brown  hair  was  blown  in  rich 
ringlets  about  her  face,  which  beamed  through  them  with  the 
brightness  of  smiles  and  dimples. 

At  sight  of  me  she  stopped  short,  in  the  most  beautiful  con- 
fusion, stammered  out  a  word  or  two  about  looking  for  her 
father,  glided  out  of  the  door,  and  I  heard  her  bounding  up 
the  staircase,  like  a  frighted  fawn,  with  the  little  dog  barking 
after  her. 

When  Miss  Somerville  returned  to  the  parlor,  she  was  quite 
a  different  being.  She  entered,  stealing  along  by  her  mother's 
side  with  noiseless  step,  and  sweet  timidity:  her  hair  was 
prettily  adjusted,  and  a  soft  blush  mantled  on  her  damask 
cheek.  Mr.  Somerville  accompanied  the  ladies,  and  introduced 
me  regularly  to  them.  There  were  many  kind  inquiries  and 
much  sympathy  expressed,  on  the  subject  of  my  nautical  acci- 
dent, and  some  remarks  upon  the  Tvdld  scenery  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, with  wliich  the  ladies  seemed  perfectly  acquainted. 

"  You  must  know,"  said  Mr.  Somerville,  "  that  we  are  great 
navigators,  and  dehght  in  exploring  every  nook  and  corner  of 
the  river.  My  daughter,  too,  is  a  great  hunter  of  the  pictur- 
esque, and  transfers  every  rock  and  glen  to  her  portfolio.  By 
the  way,  my  dear,  show  Mr.  Mountjoy  that  pretty  scene  you 
have  lately  sketched."  Julia  complied,  blushing,  and  drew 
from  her  portfolio  a  colored  sketch.  I  almost  started  at  the 
sight.  It  was  my  favorite  brook.  A  sudden  thought  darted 
across  my  mind.  I  glanced  down  my  eye,  and  beheld  the 
divinest  little  foot  in  the  world.  Oh,  bhssful  conviction !  The 
struggle  of  my  affections  was  at  an  end.  The  voice  and  the 
footstep  were  no  longer  at  variance.  Juha  Somerville  was  the 
nymph  of  the  fountain  I 


What  conversation  passed  during  breakfast  I  do  not  recol- 
lect, and  hardly  was  conscious  of  at  the  time,  for  my  thoughts 


MOUNT  JOT. 


27 


■were  in  complete  confusion.  I  wished  to  gaze  on  Miss  Somer< 
ville,but  did  not  dare.  Once,  indeed,  I  ventured  a  glance.  She 
was  at  that  moment  darting  a  similar  one  from  under  a  covert 
of  ringlets.  Our  eyes  seemed  shocked  by  the  rencontre,  and 
fell;  hers  through  the  natural  modesty  of  her  sex,  mine 
through  a  bashfulness  produced  by  the  previous  workings  of 
my  imagination.  That  glance,  however,  went  like  a  sun-beam 
to  my  heart. 

A  convenient  mirror  favored  my  diffidence,  and  gave  me  the 
reflection  of  Miss  SomerviHe's  form.  It  is  true  it  only  present- 
ed the  back  of  her  head,  but  she  had  the  merit  of  an  ancient 
statue ;  contemplate  her  from  any  point  of  view,  she  was  beau- 
tiful. And  yet  she  was  totally  different  from  everything  I  had 
before  conceived  of  beauty.  She  was  not  the  serene,  medita- 
tive maid  that  I  had  pictured  the  nymph  of  the  fountain ;  nor 
the  tall,  soft,  languishing,  blue-eyed,  dignified  being  that  I  had 
fancied  the  minstrel  of  the  harp.  There  was  nothing  of  dignity 
about  her :  she  was  girlish  in  her  appearance,  and  scarcely  of 
the  middle  size ;  but  then  there  v/as  the  tenderness  of  budding 
youth ;  the  sweetness  of  the  half -blown  rose,  when  not  a  tint 
or  perfume  has  been  withered  or  exhaled;  there  were  smiles 
and  dimples,  and  all  the  soft  witcheries  of  ever- varying  expres- 
sion. I  wondered  that  I  could  ever  have  admired  any  other 
style  of  beauty. 

After  brealifast,  Mr.  Somerville  departed  to  attend  to  the 
concerns  of  his  estate,  and  gave  me  in  charge  of  the  ladies. 
Mrs.  Somerville  also  was  called  away  by  household  cares,  and 
I  was  left  alone  with  Juha!  Here,  then,  was  the  situation 
which  of  all  others  I  had  most  coveted.  I  was  in  the  presence 
of  the  lovely  being  that  had  so  long  been  the  desire  of  my 
heart.  We  were  alone;  propitious  opportimity  for  a  lover  1 
Did  I  seize  upon  it?  Did  I  break  out  in  one  of  my  accustomed 
rhapsodies?  No  such  thing  1  Never  was  being  more  awk- 
wardly embarrassed. 

"What  can  be  the  cause  of  this?"  thought  I.  "Surely,  I 
cannot  stand  in  awe  of  this  young  girl.  I  am  of  course  her 
superior  in  intellect,  and  am  never  embarrassed  in  company 
with  my  tutor,  notwithstanding  all  his  wisdom." 

It  was  passing  strange.  I  felt  that  if  she  were  an  old  woman, 
I  should  be  quite  at  my  ease ;  if  she  were  even  an  ugly  woman, 
I  should  make  out  very  weU:  it  was  her  beauty  that  over- 
powered me.  How  Httle  do  lovely  women  know  what  awful 
beings  they  are,  in  the  eyes  of  inexperienced  youth !  Young 


28 


THE  CRAYOJS'  PAPERS. 


men  brought  up  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  our  cities  will 
smile  at  all  this.  Accustomed  to  mingle  incessantly  in  female 
society,  and  to  have  the  romance  of  the  heart  deadened  by  a 
thousand  frivolous  flirtations,  women  are  nothing  but  women 
m  their  eyes ;  but  to  a  susceptible  youth  like  myself,  brought 
up  in  the  country,  they  are  perfect  divinities. 

Miss  Somerville  was  at  first  a  little  embarrassed  herself;  but, 
some  how  or  other,  women  have  a  natural  adroitness  in  recov- 
ering their  self-possession ;  they  are  more  alert  in  their  minds, 
and  graceful  in  their  manners.  Beside,  I  was  but  an  ordinary 
personage  in  Miss  Somerville's  eyes;  she  was  not  under  the 
influence  of  such  a  singular  course  of  imaginings  as  had  sur- 
rounded her,  in  my  eyes,  with  the  illusions  of  romance. 
Perhaps,  too,  she  saw  the  confusion  in  the  opposite  camp  and 
gained  courage  from  the  discovery.  At  any  rate  she  was  the 
first  to  take  the  field. 

Her  conversation,  however,  was  only  on  common-place 
topics,  and  in  an  easy,  well-bred  style.  I  endeavored  to  re- 
spond in  the  same  manner ;  but  I  was  strangely  incompetent 
to  the  task.  My  ideas  were  frozen  up ;  even  words  seemed  to 
fail  me.  I  was  excessively  vexed  at  myself,  for  I  wished  to  be 
uncommonly  elegant.  I  tried  two  or  three  times  to  turn  a 
pretty  thought,  or  to  utter  a  fine  sentiment ;  but  it  would  come 
forth  so  trite,  so  forced,  so  mawkish,  that  I  was  ashamed  of  it. 
My  very  voice  sounded  discordantly,  though  I  sought  to  modu- 
late it  into  the  softest  tones.  "The  truth  is,"  thought  I  to 
myself,  "I  cannot  bring  my  mind  down  to  the  small  talk 
necessary  for  young  girls ;  it  is  too  masculine  and  robust  for 
the  mincing  measure  of  parlor  gossip.  I  am  a  philosopher — 
and  that  accounts  for  it." 

The  entrance  of  Mrs.  Somerville  at  length  gave  me  rehef.  I 
at  once  breathed  freely,  and  felt  a  vast  deal  of  confidence  come 
over  me.  "This  is  strange,"  thought  I,  "that  the  appearance 
of  another  woman  should  revive  my  courage ;  that  I  should  be 
a  better  match  for  two  women  than  one.  However,  since  it  is 
so,  I  will  take  advantage  of  the  circumstance,  and  let  this 
young  lady  see  that  I  am  not  so  great  a  simpleton  as  she  prob- 
ably thinks  me. " 

I  accordingly  took  up  the  book  of  poetry  which  lay  upon  the 
sofa.  It  was  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost."  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  fortunate ;  it  afforded  a  fine  scope  for  my  favorite 
vein  of  grandiloquence.  I  went  largely  into  a  discussion  of  its 
merits,  or  rather  an  enthusiastic  eulogy  of  them.    My  observa- 


MOV  NT  JOY. 


29 


tions  were  addressed  to  Mrs.  Somerville,  for  I  found  I  coidd 
talk  to  her  with  more  ease  than  to  her  daughter.  She 
appeared  ahve  to  the  beauties  of  the  poet,  and  disposed  to  meet 
me  in  the  discussion;  but  it  was  not  my  object  to  hear  her 
talk;  it  was  to  talk  myself.  I  anticipated  all  she  had  to 
say,  overpowered  her  with  the  copiousness  of  my  ideas,  and 
supported  and  illustrated  them  by  long  citations  from  the 
author. 

While  thus  holding  forth,  I  cast  a  side  glance  to  see  how 
Miss  Somerville  was  affected.  She  had  some  embroidery 
stretched  on  a  frame  before  her,  but  had  paused  in  her  labor, 
and  was  looking  down  as  if  lost  in  mute  attention.  I  felt  a 
glow  of  self-satisfaction,  but  I  recollected,  at  the  same  time, 
with  a  kind  of  pique,  the  advantage  she  had  enjoyed  over  me 
in  our  tete-a-tete.  I  determined  to  push  my  triumph,  and  ac- 
cordingly kept  on  with  redoubled  ardor,  until  I  had  fairly  ex- 
hausted my  subject,  or  rather  my  thoughts. 

I  had  scarce  come  to  a  full  stop,  when  Miss  Somerville 
raised  her  eyes  from  the  work  on  which  they  had  been  fixed, 
and  turning  to  her  mother,  observed:  "  I  have  been  consider- 
ing, mamma,  whether  to  work  these  flowers  plain,  or  in 
colors." 

Had  an  ice-bolt  shot  to  my  heart,  it  could  not  have  chilled 
me  more  effectually.  "What  a  fool,"  thought  I,  "have  I  been 
making  myself — squandering  away  fine  thoughts,  aod  fine  lan- 
guage, upon  a  hght  mind,  and  an  ignorant  ear!  This  girl 
knows  nothing  of  poetry.  She  has  no  soul,  I  fear,  for  its 
beauties.  Can  any  one  have  real  sensibility  of  heart,  and  not 
be  alive  to  poetry?  However,  she  is  young;  this  part  of  her 
education  has  been  neglected :  there  is  time  enough  to  remedy 
it.  I  will  be  her  preceptor.  I  will  kindle  in  her  mind  the 
sacred  flame,  and  lead  her  through  the  fairy  land  of  song. 
But  after  aU,  it  is  rather  unfortunate  that  I  should  have  fallen 
in  love  ^vith  a  woman  who  knows  nothing  of  poetry." 


I  passed  a  day  not  altogether  satisfactoiy.  I  was  a  little 
disappointed  that  Miss  Somerville  did  not  show  any  poetical 
feeling.  "I  am  afraid,  after  all,"  said  I  to  myself,  "she  is 
hght  and  girlish,  and  more  fitted  to  pluck  wild  flowers,  play  on 
the  flageolet,  and  romp  with  httle  dogs  than  to  converse  with 
a  man  of  my  turn." 

I  beUeve,  however,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  more  out  of 


80 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


humor  with  myself.  I  thought  I  had  made  the  worst  first 
appearance  that  ever  hero  made,  either  in  novel  or  fairy  tale. 
I  was  out  of  ail  patience,  when  I  called  to  mind  my  awkward 
attempts  at  ease  and  elegance  in  the  tete-a-tete.  And  then  my 
intolerable  long  lecture  about  poetry  to  catch  the  applause  of 
a  heedless  auditor !  But  there  I  was  not  to  blame.  I  had  cer- 
tainly been  eloquent :  it  was  her  fault  that  the  eloquence  was 
wasted.  To  meditate  upon  the  embroidery  of  a  flower,  when  I 
was  expatiating  on  the  beauties  of  Milton !  She  might  at  least 
have  admired  the  poetry,  if  she  did  not  rehsh  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  dehvered :  though  that  was  not  despicable,  for  I 
had  recited  passages  in  my  best  style,  which  my  mother  and 
sisters  had  always  considered  equal  to  a  play.  "Oh,  it  is 
evident,"  thought  I,  "Miss  Somerville  has  very  httle  soul  1" 

Such  were  my  fancies  and  cogitations  during  the  day,  the 
greater  part  of  which  was  spent  in  my  chamber,  for  I  was  still 
languid.  My  evening  was  x)assed  in  the  drawing-room,  where 
I  o\?orlooked  Miss  Somerville's  portfolio  of  sketches. 

They  were  executed  with  great  taste,  and  showed  a  nice  ob- 
servation of  the  pecuharities  of  nature.  They  were  all  her  own, 
and  free  from  those  cunning  tints  and  touches  of  the  drawing- 
master,  by  which  young  ladies'  drawings,  hke  their  heads,  are 
dressed  up  for  company.  There  was  no  garnish  or  vulgar  trick 
of  colors,  either ;  all  was  executed  with  singular  truth  and  sim- 
plicity. 

"  And  yet,"  thought  I,  "this  Httle  being,  who  has  so  pure  an 
eye  to  take  in,  as  in  a  hmpid  brook,  all  the  graceful  fonns  and 
magic  tints  of  nature,  has  no  soul  for  poetry !" 

Mr.  Somerville,  toward  the  latter  part  of  the  evening,  observ- 
ing my  eye  to  wander  occasionally  to  the  harp,  interpreted 
and  met  my  wishes  with  his  accustomed  civihty. 

"Julia,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "Mr.  Mount  joy  would  like  to  hear 
a  Httle  music  from  your  harp ;  let  us  hear,  too,  the  sound  of 
your  voice." 

Julia  immediately  complied,  without  any  of  that  hesitation 
and  difficulty,  by  which  young  ladies  are  apt  to  make  company 
pay  dear  for  bad  music.  She  sang  a  sprightly  strain,  in  a  bril- 
Hant  style,  that  came  trilling  playfully  over  the  ear ;  and  the 
bright  eye  and  dimpHng  smile  showed  that  her  Httle  heart 
danced  with  the  song.  Her  pet  canary  bird,  who  hung  close 
by,  was  awakened  by  the  music,  and  burst  forth  into  an  emu- 
lating strain.  Julia  smiled  with  a  pretty  air  of  defiance,  and 
played  louder. 


31 


After  some  time,  the  music  changed,  and  ran  into  a  plaintive 
strain,  in  a  minor  key.  Then  it  was,  that  all  the  former 
witchery  of  her  voice  came  over  me;  then  it  was  that  she 
seemed  to  sing  from  the  heart  and  to  the  heart.  Her  fingers 
moved  about  the  chords  as  if  they  scarcely  touched  them. 
Her  whole  manner  and  appearance  changed ;  her  eyes  beamed 
with  the  softest  expression;  her  countenance,  her  frame,  all 
seemed  subdued  into  tenderness.  She  rose  from  the  harp, 
leaving  it  still  vibrating  with  sweet  soimds,  and  moved  toward 
her  father  to  bid  liim  good  night. 

His  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  her  intently,  during  her  perfor- 
mance. As  she  came  before  him  he  parted  her  shining  ringlets 
w^ith  both  his  hands,  and  looked  down  with  the  fondness  of  a 
father  on  her  innocent  face.  The  music  seemed  still  lingering 
in  its  lineaments,  and  the  action  of  her  father  brought  a  moist 
gleam  in  her  eye.  He  kissed  her  fair  forehead,  after  the 
French  mode  of  parental  caressing:  "Good  night,  and  God 
bless  you," said  he,  "my  good  little  girl!" 

Julia  tripped  away,  with  a  tear  in  her  eye,  a  dimple  in  her 
cheek,  and  a  hght  heart  in  her  bosom.  I  thought  it  the  pret- 
tiest picture  of  paternal  and  fiihal  affection  I  had  ever  seen. 

When  I  retired  to  bed,  a  new  train  of  thoughts  crowded  into 
my  brain.  "  After  all,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  it  is  clear  this  girl 
has  a  soul,  though  she  was  not  moved  by  my  eloquence.  She 
has  aU  the  outward  signs  and  evidences  of  poetic  feeling.  She 
paints  well,  and  has  an  eye  for  nature.  She  is  a  fine  musician, 
and  enters  into  the  very  soul  of  song.  What  a  pity  that  she 
knows  nothing  of  poetry !  But  we  will  see  what  is  to  be  done. 
I  am  irretrievably  in  love  with  her;  what  then  am  I  to  do? 
Come  down  to  the  level  of  her  mind,  or  endeavor  to  raise  her 
to  some  kind  of  intellectual  equahty  with  myself?  That  is  tlie 
most  generous  course.  She  will  look  up  to  me  as  a  benefactor. 
I  shall  become  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  lofty  thoughts 
and  harmonious  graces  of  poetry.  She  is  apparently  docile: 
beside,  the  difference  of  our  ages  will  give  me  an  ascendancy 
over  her.  She  cannot  be  above  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  I  am 
full  turned  to  twenty."  So,  having  built  this  most  delectable 
of  air  castles,  I  fell  asleep. 


The  next  morning  I  was  quite  a  different  being.  I  no  longer 
felt  fearful  of  stealing  a  glance  at  Juha ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
contemplated  her  steadily,  with  the  benignant  eye  of  a  benefac- 


32 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


tor.  Shortly  after  breakfast  I  found  myself  alone  with  her,  as 
I  had  on  the  preceding  morning ;  but  I  felt  nothing  of  the  awk- 
wardness of  our  previous  tete-a-tete,  I  was  elevated  by  the 
consciousness  of  my  intellectual  superiority,  and  should  almost 
have  felt  a  sentiment  of  pity  for  the  ignorance  of  the  lovely 
little  being,  if  I  had  not  felt  also  the  assurance  that  I  should  be 
able  to  dispel  it.    ' '  But  it  is  time, "  thought  I,  "to  open  school. 

Julia  was  occupied  in  arranging  some  music  on  her  piano. 
I  looked  over  two  or  three  songs;  they  were  Moore's  Irish 
melodies. 

"These  are  pretty  things!"  said  I,  fhrting  the  leaves  over 
lightly,  and  giving  a  slight  shrug,  by  way  of  quahfjdng  the 
opinion. 

"Oh,  I  love  them  of  all  things,"  said  Juha,  "they're  so 
touching!" 

"  Then  you  like  them  for  the  poetry,"  said  I,  with  an  encour- 
aging smile. 

" Oh  yes;  she  thought  them  charmingly  written." 

Now  was  my  time.  "  Poetry,"  said  I,  assuming  a  didactic 
attitude  and  air,  "poetry  is  one  of  the  most  pleasmg  studies 
that  can  occupy  a  youthful  mind.  It  renders  us  susceptible  of 
the  gentle  impulses  of  humanity,  and  cherishes  a  dehcate  per- 
ception of  all  that  is  virtuous  and  elevated  in  morals,  and 
graceful  and  beautiful  in  physics.    It  " 

I  was  going  on  in  a  style  that  would  have  graced  a  professor 
of  rhetoric,  when  I  saw  a  hght  smile  playing  about  IVIiss 
Somervllle's  mouth,  and  that  she  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves 
of  a  music-book.  I  recollected  her  inattention  to  my  discourse 
of  the  preceding  morning.  "There  is  no  fixing  her  light 
mind,"  thought  I,  " by  abstract  theory ;  we  will  proceed  prac- 
tically." As  it  happened,  the  identical  volume  of  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost  was  lying  at  hand. 

'  •  Lot  me  recommend  to  you,  my  young  friend,  said  I,  in 
one  of  those  tones  of  persuasive  admonition,  which  I  had  so 
often  loved  in  Glencoe,  "let  me  recommend  to  you  this  ad- 
mirable poem ;  you  will  find  in  it  sources  of  intellectual  enjoy- 
ment far  superior  to  those  songs  which  have  delighted  you. 
Julia  looked  at  the  book,  and  then  at  me,  with  a  whimsically 
dubious  air.  "Milton's  Paradise  Lost?"  said  she;  "oh,  I 
know  the  greater  part  of  that  by  heart. " 

I  had  not  expected  to  find  my  pupil  so  far  advanced ;  how- 
ever, the  Paradise  Lost  is  a  kind  of  school-book,  and  its  finest 
passages  are  given  to  young  ladies  as  tasks. 


MOUNT  JOY. 


33 


" I  find,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  I  must  not  treat  her  as  so  com' 
plete  a  novice ;  her  inattention  yesterday  could  not  have  j)ro- 
ceeded  from  absolute  ignorance,  but  merely  from  a  want  of 
poetic  feeling.    I'll  try  her  again." 

I  now  determined  to  dazzle  her  with  my  own  emdition,  and 
launched  into  a  harangue  that  would  have  done  honor  to  an 
institute.  Pope,  Spenser,  Chaucer,  and  the  old  dramatic  wri- 
ters were  all  dipped  into,  with  the  excursive  flight  of  a 
swallow.  I  did  not  confine  myself  to  English  poets,  but  gave 
a  glance  at  the  French  and  Italian  schools;  I  passed  over 
Ariosto  in  full  wing,  but  paused  on  Tasso's  Jerusalem  De- 
livered. I  dwelt  on  the  character  of  Clorinda:  ''There's  a 
character,"  said  I,  "that  you  wiU  find  weU  worthy  a  woman's 
study.  It  shows  to  what  exalted  heights  of  heroism  the  sex 
can  rise,  how  gloriously  they  may  share  even  in  the  stem  con- 
cerns of  men. " 

"For  my  part,"  said  Julia,  gently  taking  advantage  of  a 
pause,  "for  my  part,  I  prefer  the  character  of  Sophronia." 

I  was  thunderstruck.  She  then  had  read  Tasso !  This  girl 
that  I  had  been  treating  as  an  ignoramus  in  poetry !  She  pro- 
ceeded with  a  shght  glow  of  the  cheek,  summoned  up  perhaps 
by  a  casual  glow  of  feeHng: 

"I  do  not  admire  those  masculine  heroines, "  said  she,  "  who 
aim  at  the  bold  quahties  of  the  opposite  sex.  Now  Soph- 
ronia only  exhibits  the  real  quahties  of  a  woman,  wrought 
up  to  their  highest  excitement.  She  is  modest,  gentle,  and 
retiring,  as  it  becomes  a  woman  to  be;  but  she  has  all  the 
strength  of  affection  proper  to  a  woman.  She  cannot  fight  for 
her  people  as  Clorinda  does,  but  she  can  offer  herself  up,  and 
die  to  serve  them.  You  may  admire  Clorinda,  but  you  surely 
would  be  more  apt  to  love  Sophronia;  at  least,"  added  she, 
suddenly  appearing  to  recollect  herself,  and  blushing  at  having 
launched  into  such  a  discussion,  "at  least  that  is  what  papa 
observed  when  we  read  the  poem  together." 

"  Indeed, "said  I,  dryly,  for  I  felt  disconcerted  and  nettled  at 
being  unexpectedly  lectured  by  my  pupil;  "indeed,  I  do  not 
exactly  recollect  the  passage. " 

"Oh,"  said  Juha,  "I  can  repeat  it  to  you;"  and  she  im- 
mediately gave  it  in  Italian. 

Heavens  and  earth  I — here  was  a  situation !  I  knew  no  more 
of  Itahan  than  I  did  of  the  language  of  Psahnanazar.  What  a 
dilemma  for  a  would-be- wise  man  to  be  placed  in!  I  saw 
Juha  waited  for  my  opinion. 


^4 


THE  CIlAYOjy  PAPERS. 


''In  fact,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "I— I  do  not  exactly  under- 
stand Italian. " 

"  Oh,"  said  JuUa,  with  the  utmost  naivete,  "I  have  no  doubt 
it  is  very  beautiful  in  the  translation." 

I  was  glad  to  break  up  school,  and  get  back  to  my  chamber, 
full  of  the  mortification  which  a  wise  man  in  love  experiences 
on  finding  his  mistress  wiser  than  himself.  "Translation! 
translation!"  muttered  I  to  myself ,  as  I  jerked  the  door  shut 
behind  me:  "  I  am  surprised  my  father  has  never  had  me  in- 
structed in  the  modern  languages.  They  are  all-important. 
What  is  the  use  of  Latin  and  Greek?  No  one  speaks  them; 
but  here,  i^he  moment  I  make  my  appearance  in  the  world,  a 
httle  girl  slaps  Itahan  in  my  face.  However,  thank  heaven,  a 
language  is  easily  learned.  The  moment  I  return  home,  I'll 
set  about  studying  Itahan ;  and  to  prevent  future  surprise,  I 
will  study  Spanish  and  German  at  the  same  time ;  and  if  any 
young  lady  attempts  to  quote  Itahan  upon  me  again,  I'll  bury 
her  under  a  heap  of  High  Dutch  poetry !" 


I  felt  now  like  some  mighty  chieftain,  who  has  carried  the 
war  into  a  weak  country,  with  full  confidence  of  success,  and 
been  repulsed  and  obliged  to  draw  off  his  forces  from  before 
some  inconsiderable  fortress. 

"However,"  thought  I,  "I  have  as  yet  brought  only  my 
light  artiUery  into  action ;  we  shall  see  what  is  to  be  done  mth 
my  heavy  ordnance.  Juha  is  evidently  well  versed  in  poetry ; 
but  it  is  natural  she  should  be  so ;  it  is  aUied  to  painting  and 
music,  and  is  congenial  to  the  hght  graces  of  the  female  char- 
acter.   We  will  try  her  on  graver  themes." 

I  felt  all  my  pride  awakened;  it  even  for  a  time  swelled 
higher  than  -mj  loA^e.  I  was  determined  completely  to  estab- 
lish my  mental  superiority,  and  subdue  the  intellect  of  this 
little  being;  it  would  then  be  time  to  sway  the  sceptre  of 
gentle  empire,  and  win  the  affections  of  her  heart. 

Accordingly,  at  dinner  I  again  took  the  field,  enpotence.  I 
now  addressed  myself  to  Mr.  Somer^dlle,  for  I  was  about  to 
enter  upon  topics  in  which  a  young  girl  like  her  could  not  be 
well  versed.  I  led,  or  rather  forced,  the  conversation  into  a 
vein  of  historical  erudition,  discussing  several  of  the  most 
prominent  facts  of  ancient  history,  and  accompanying  them 
with  sound,  indisputable  apothegms. 

Mr.  Somer^'ille  hstened  to  me  with  the  air  of  a  man  re 


MOUNTJOY. 


35 


ceiving  information.  I  was  encouraged,  and  went  on  glori- 
ously from  theme  to  theme  of  school  declamation.  I  sat  with 
Marius  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage ;  I  defended  the  biidge  with 
Horatius  Codes;  thrust  my  hand  into  the  flame  with  Martins 
SccGvola,  and  plunged  with  Curtius  into  the  yawning  gulf;  1 
fought  side  by  side  with  Leonidas,  at  the  straits  of  Thermo- 
pylae ;  and  was  going  full  drive  into  the  battle  of  Platsea,  when 
my  memory,  which  is  the  vvorst  in  the  world,  failed  mc,  just 
as  I  wanted  the  name  of  the  Lacedemonian  commander. 

"Julia,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Somerville.  "perhaps  you  may 
recollect  the  name  of  which  Mr.  Mount  joy  is  in  quest?" 

Julia  colored  slightly.  "I  believe,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice, 
"I  believe  it  was  Pausanias." 

This  unexpected  sally,  instead  of  reinforcing  me,  tlu?ew  my 
whole  scheme  of  battle  into  confusion,  and  the  Athenians  re- 
mained unmolested  in  the  field. 

I  am  half  incKned,  since,  to  think  Mr.  Somerville  meant  this 
as  a  sly  hit  at  my  schoolboy  pedantry ;  but  he  was  too  well 
bred  not  to  seek  to  relieve  me  from  my  mortification.  ' '  Oh !" 
said  he,  "Julia  is  our  family  book  of  reference  for  names, 
dates,  and  distances,  and  has  an  excellent  memory  for  history 
and  geography." 

I  now  became  desperate ;  as  a  last  resource  I  turned  to  meta- 
physics. "If  she  is  a  philosopher  in  petticoats,"  thought  I, 
"it  is  all  over  with  me."  Here,  nowever,  I  had  the  field  to 
myself.  I  gave  chapter  and  verse  of  my  tutor's  lectures, 
heightened  by  all  his  poetical  illustrations ;  I  even  went  further 
than  he  had  ever  ventured,  and.  plunged  into  such  depths  of 
metaphysics,  that  I  was  in  danger  of  sticking  in  the  mire  at 
the  bottom.  Fortunately,  I  had  auditors  who  apparently 
could  not  detect  my  flounderings.  Neither  Mr.  Somerville  nor 
liis  daughter  offered  the  least  interruption. 

Yv^hen  the  ladies  had  retired,  Mr,  Somerville  sat  some  time 
with  me ;  and  as  I  was  no  longer  anxious  to  astonish,  I  per- 
mitted myself  to  hsten,  and  found  that  he  was  really  agreeable. 
He  was  quite  conmiunicative,  and  from  his  conversation  I  was 
enabled  to  form  a  juster  idea  of  his  daughter's  character,  and 
the  mode  in  which  she  had  been  brought  up.  Mr.  Somerville 
had  mingled  much  with  the  world,  and  with  what  is  termed 
fashionable  society.  He  had  experienced  its  cold  elegancies 
and  gay  liismcerities ;  its  dissipation  of  the  spirits  and  squan- 
derii.gs  of  "die  heart.  Like  many  men  of  the  world,  though  he 
had  wandered  too  far  from  nature  ever  to  return  to  it.  yet  he 


36 


THE  CRATOy  iwrKus. 


had  the  good  taste  and  good  feeling  to  look  back  fondly  to  its 
simple  delights,  and  to  determine  that  liis  child,  if  possible, 
should  never  leave  them.  He  had  superintended  her  education 
with  scrupulous  care,  storing  her  mind  with  the  graces  of 
pohte  hterature,  and  with  such  knowledge  as  would  enable  it 
to  furnish  its  own  amusement  and  occupation,  and  giving  her 
all  the  accomplishments  that  sweeten  and  enhven  the  circle  of 
domestic  hfe.  He  had  been  particularly  sedulous  to  exclude 
all  fashionable  affectations;  all  false  sentunent,  false  sensi- 
bility, and  false  romance.  "Whatever  advantages  she  mriy 
possess,"  said  he,  "she  is  quite  unconscious  of  them.  She  i) 
a  capricious  httle  being,  in  everything  but  her  affections ;  sLo 
is,  however,  free  from  art;  simple,  ingenuous,  amiable,  and,  I 
thank  God !  happy. " 

Such  was  the  eulogy  of  a  fond  father,  delivered  with  a  ten- 
derness that  touched  me.  I  could  not  help  making  a  casual 
inqmry,  whether,  among  the  graces  of  polite  literature,  he  had 
included  a  shght  tincture  of  metaphysics.  Ho  smiled,  and  told 
me  he  had  not. 

On  the  whole,  when,  as  usual,  that  night,  I  summed  up  the 
day's  observations  on  my  pillow,  I  was  not  altogether  dissatis- 
fied. "Miss  Somerville,"  said  I,  "loves  poetry,  and  I  like  her 
the  better  for  it.  She  has  the  advantage  of  me  in  Itahan; 
agreed ;  what  is  it  to  know  a  variety  of  languages,  but  merely 
to  have  a  variety  of  sounds  to  express  the  same  idea?  Origuial 
thought  is  the  ore  of  the  mind ;  language  is  but  the  accidental 
stamp  and  coinage  by  which  it  is  put  into  circulation.  If  I 
can  furnish  an  original  idea,  what  care  I  how  many  languages 
she  can  translate  it  into?  She  may  be  able  also  to  quote 
names,  and  dates,  and  latitudes  better  than  I ;  but  that  is  a 
mere  effort  of  the  memory.  I  admit  she  is  more  accurate  in 
history  and  geography  than  I ;  but  then  she  knows  nothing 
of  metaphysics. " 

I  had  now  sufficiently  recovered  to  return  home ;  yet  I  could 
not  think  of  leaving  Mr.  Somerville' s  without  having  a  little 
further  conversation  with  him  on  the  subject  of  his  daughter's 
education. 

"  Tliis  Mr.  Somerville,"  thought  I,  is  a  very  accomphshed, 
elegant  man ;  he  has  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  and,  upon 
the  whole,  has  profited  by  what  he  has  seen.  He  is  not  with- 
out information,  and,  as  far  as  he  thinks,  appears  to  think 
correctly;  but  after  all,  he  is  rather  superficial,  and  does 
not  think  profoundly.    He  seenis  t<i  t.??^:e  no  delight  in  thoRC 


MOm'TJOY. 


metaphysical  abstractions  that  are  the  proper  alunent  of  mas- 
cuhne  minds."  I  called  to  mind  various  occasions  in  which  I 
had  indvilged  largely  in  metaphysical  discussions,  but  could 
recollect  no  instance  where  I  had  been  able  to  draw  him  out. 
He  had  hstened,  itis  true,  with  attention,  and  smiled  as  if  in 
acquiescence,  but  had  always  appeared  to  avoid  reply.  Be- 
side, I  had  made  several  sad  blunders  in  the  glow  of  eloquent 
declamation ;  but  he  had  never  interrupted  me,  to  notice  and 
correct  them,  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  been  versed  in 
the  theme. 

"Now,  it  is  really  a  great  pity,"  resumed  I,  "that  he  should 
have  the  entire  management  of  Miss  Somerville's  education. 
What  a  vast  advantage  it  would  be,  if  she  could  be  put  for  a 
httle  tmie  under  the  superintendence  of  Glcncoe.  He^would 
throw  some  deeper  shades  of  thought  into  her  mind,  which  at 
present  is  all  sunshine ;  not  but  that  Mr.  Somerville  has  done 
very  well,  as  far  as  he  has  gone ;  but  then  he  has  merely  pre- 
pared the  soil  for  the  strong  plants  of  useful  knowledge.  She 
is  well  versed  in  the  leading  facts  of  history,  and  the  general 
course  of  belles-lettres,"  said  I;  "a  Httle  more  philosophy 
would  do  wonders." 

I  accordingly  took  occasion  to  ask  Mr.  Somerville  for  a  few 
moments'  conversation  in  his  study,  the  morning  I  was  to 
depart.  When  we  were  alone  I  opened  the  matter  fully  to 
him.  I  commenced  with  the  warmest  eulogium  of  Glencoe's 
powers  of  mind,  and  vast  acquirements,  and  ascribed  to  him 
all  my  proficiency  in  the  higher  branches  of  knowledge.  I 
begged,  therefore,  to  recommend  him  as  a  friend  calculated  to 
direct  the  studies  of  Miss  Somerville;  to  lead  her  mind,  by 
degrees,  to  the  contemplation  of  abstract  principles,  and  to 
produce  habits  of  philosophical  analj^sis;  "which,"  added  I, 
gently  smiling,  "are  not  often  cultivated  by  young  ladies."  I 
ventured  to  hint,  in  addition,  that  he  would  find  Mr.  Glencoe 
1  most  valuable  and  interesting  acquaintance  for  himself ;  one 
who  would  stimulate  and  evolve  the  powers  of  his  mind;  and 
who  might  open  to  him  tracts  of  inquiry  and  speculation,  to 
wliich  perhaps  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger. 

Mr.  Somerville  listened  with  grave  attention.  When  I  had 
finished,  he  thanked  me  in  the  politest  manner  for  the  interest 
I  took  in  the  welfare  of  his  daughter  and  himself.  He  ob- 
served that,  as  regarded  himself,  he  was  afraid  he  was  too  old 
to  benefit  by  the  instruction  of  Mr.  Glencoe,  and  that  as  to  his 
daughter,  he  was  afraid  her  mmd  was  but  little  fitted  for  the 


38 


TUE  CRATOX  PAPERS. 


study  of  metaphysics.  "I  do  not  wish,"  continued  he,  **to 
strain  her  intellects  with  subjects  they  cannot  grasp,  but  to 
make  her  famiharly  acquainted  with  those  that  are  witliin  the 
limits  of  her  capacity.  I  do  not  pretend  to  prescribe  the 
boundaries  of  female  genius,  and  am  far  from  indulgmg  the 
\nilgar  opinion,  that  women  are  unfitted  by  nature  for  the 
highest  intellectual  pursuits.  I  speak  only  with  reference  to 
my  daughter's  tastes  and  talents.  She  will  never  make  a 
learned  woman ;  nor,  in  truth,  do  I  desire  it ;  for  such  is  the 
jealousy  of  our  sex,  as  to  mental  as  well  as  physical  ascend- 
ancy, that  a  learned  woman  is  not  always  the  happiest.  I  do 
not  wish  my  daughter  to  excite  envy,  or  to  battle  with  the 
prejudices  of  the  world ;  but  to  glide  peaceably  through  Life, 
on  the » good  will  and  kind  opinions  of  her  friends.  She  has 
ample  employment  for  her  little  head,  in  the  course  I  have 
marked  out  for  her ;  and  is  busy  at  present  with  some  branches 
of  natm-al  history,  calculated  to  awaken  her  perceptions  to  the 
beauties  and  wonders  of  nature,  and  to  the  inexhaustible  vol- 
ume of  wisdom  constantly  spread  open  before  her  eyes.  I 
consider  that  woman  most  likely  to  make  an  agreeable  com- 
panion, who  can  draw  topics  of  pleasing  remark  from  every 
natural  object ;  and  most  likely  to  be  cheerful  and  contented, 
Tt  ho  is  continually  sensible  of  the  order,  the  harmony,  and  the 
invariable  beneficence,  that  reign  throughout  the  beautiful 
world  we  inhabit." 

"But,"  added  he,  smiling,  "I  am  betraying  myself  into  a 
lecture,  instead  of  merely  giving  a  reply  to  your  kind  offer. 
Permit  me  to  take  the  hbert}',  in  return,  of  inquiring  a  little 
about  your  own  pursuits.  You  speak  of  having  finished  your 
education ;  but  of  course  you  have  a  line  of  private  study  and 
mental  occupation  marked  out;  for  you  must  know  the  impor- 
tance, both  in  point  of  interest  and  happiness,  of  keeping  the 
mind  employed.  May  1  ask  what  system  you  observe  in  your 
intellectual  exercises?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  system,"  I  observed.  "  I  could  never  bring  mys^df 
into  anything  of  the  kind.  I  thought  it  best  to  let  my  genius 
take  its  own  course,  as  it  always  acted  the  most  vigorously 
when  stimulated  by  inclination." 

Mr.  Somorville  shook  his  head.  "This  same  genius,"  said 
he,  "  is  a  wild  quality,  that  runs  away  with  our  most  promis- 
ing young  men.  It  has  become  so  much  the  taHliion,  too,  to 
give  it  the  reins,  that  it  is  now  thought  an  annual  of  too  noble 
and  generous  a  nature  to  be  brought  to  harness.    But  it  is  all 


MOUNTJOT. 


39 


a  mistake.  Nature  never  designed  these  high  ondoAvments  to 
run  riot  through  society,  and  throw  the  whole  system  into 
confusion.  No,  my  dear  sir,  genius,  unless  it  acts  upon  sys- 
tem, is  very  apt  to  be  a  useless  quality  to  society ;  sometimes 
an  injurious,  and  certainly  a  very  uncomfortable  one,  to  its 
possessor.  I  have  had  many  oppoiiunitics  of  seeing  the  pro- 
gress through  life  of  young  men  who  vv^ere  accounted  geniuses, 
and  have  found  it  too  often  end  in  early  exhaustion  and  bitter 
disappointment;  and  have  as  often  noticed  that  these  effects 
might  be  traced  to  a  total  want  of  system.  There  were  no 
habits  of  business,  of  steady  imrpose,  and  regular  application, 
superinduced  upon  the  mind;  everything  was  left  to  chance 
and  impulse,  and  native  luxuriance,  and  everything  of  course 
ran  to  Avaste  and  wild  entanglement.  Excuse  me  if  I  am 
tedious  on  this  point,  for  I  feel  solicitous  to  impress  it  upon 
you,  being  an  error  extremely  prevalent  in  our  country  and 
one  into  which  too  many  of  our  youth  have  fallen.  I  am 
happy,  however,  to  observe  the  zeal  which  still  appears  to 
actuate  you  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  augur  every 
good  from  the  elevated  bent  of  your  ambition.  May  I  ask 
what  has  been  yovtr  course  of  study  for  the  last  six  months?" 

Never  was  question  more  unluckily  timed.  J'or  the  last  six 
months  I  had  been  absolutely  buried  in  novels  and  romances. 

Mr.  Somerville  perceived  that  the  question  was  embarrass- 
ing, and  with  his  invariable  good  breeding,  immediately  re- 
sumed the  conversation,  without  waiting  for  a  reply.  He  took 
care,  however,  to  turn  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  draw  from  me  an 
account  of  the  whole  manner  in  which  I  had  been  educated, 
and  the  various  currents  of  reading  into  which  my  mind  had 
run.  He  then  went  on  to  discuss,  briefly  but  impressively, 
the  different  branches  of  knowledge  most  important  to  a 
young  man  in  my  situation ;  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  him 
a  complete  master  of  those  studies  on  Avhich  I  had  supposed 
him  ignorant,  and  on  which  I  had  been  descanting  so  confi- 
dently. 

He  complimented  me,  however,  very  gi'acioLisly,  upon  the 
progi'ess  I  had  made,  but  advised  me  for  the  present  to  turn 
my  nttention  to  the  physical  rather  than  the  moral  sciences. 
'"These  studies,"  said  he,  "store  a  man's  mind  with  valuable 
facts,  and  at  the  same  time  repress  self-confidence,  by  letting 
liim  know  how  boundless  are  the  realms  of  knowledge,  and 
how  little  we  can  possibly  know.  Whereas  metaphysical  stu- 
dies, though  of  an  ingenious  order  of  intellectual  employment, 


40 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


are  apt  to  bewilder  some  minds  with  vague  speculations.  Tliey 
never  know  how  far  they  have  advanced,  or  what  may  be  the 
correctness  of  their  favorite  theory.  They  render  many  of  our 
young  men  verbose  and  declamatory,  and  prone  to  mistake 
the  aberrations  of  their  fancy  for  the  inspirations  of  divine 
philosophy." 

I  could  not  but  interrupt  him,  to  assent  to  the  truth  of  these 
remarks,  and  to  say  that  it  had  been  my  lot,  in  the  course  of 
my  limited  experience,  to  encounter  young  men  of  the  kind, 
who  had  overwhehned  me  by  their  verbosity. 

Mr.  Somerville  smiled.  "I trust,"  said  he,  kindly,  ''that 
you  will  guard  against  these  errors.  Avoid  the  eagerness  with 
which  a  young  man  is  apt  to  hurry  into  conversation,  and  to 
utter  the  crude  and  ill-digested  notions  which  he  has  picked  up 
in  his  recent  studies.  Be  assured  that  extensive  and  accurate 
knowledge  is  the  slow  acquisition  of  a  studious  lifetime ;  that  a 
young  man,  however  pregnant  his  wit,  and  prompt  his  talent, 
can  have  mastered  but  the  rudiments  of  learning,  and,  in  a 
manner,  attained  the  implements  of  study.  Whatever  may 
have  been  your  past  assiduity,  you  must  be  sensible  that  as 
yet  you  have  but  reached  the  threshold  of  true  knowledge ;  but 
at  the  same  time,  you  have  the  advantage  that  you  are  still 
very  young,  and  have  ample  time  to  learn." 

Here  our  conference  ended.  I  walked  out  of  the  study,  a  very 
different  being  from  what  I  was  on  entering  it.  I  had  gone  in 
with  the  air  of  a  professor  about  to  deliver  a  lecture;  I  came 
out  like  a  student  who  had  failed  in  his  examination,  and  been 
degi^aded  in  his  class. 

"  Very  young,"  and  "on  the  threshold  of  knowledge" !  This 
was  extremely  flattering,  to  one  who  had  considered  himself 
an  accomplished  scholar,  and  profound  philosopher. 

''It  is  singular,"  thought  I;  "there  seems  to  have  been  a 
spell  upon  my  faculties,  ever  since  I  have  been  in  this  house. 
I  certainly  have  not  been  able  to  do  myself  justice.  Whenever 
I  have  undertaken  to  advise,  I  have  had  the  ta  1  .'Ics  turned  upon 
me.  It  must  be  that  I  am  strange  and  diflidcnt  among  people 
I  am  not  accustomed  to.  I  wish  they  could  hear  me  talk  at 
home!" 

"After  all,"  added  I,  on  further  reflection,  "after  all,  there 
is  a  grea,t  deal  of  force  in  wha.t  Mr.  Somer^dlle  has  said.  Some- 
how or  other,  these  men  of  the  world  do  now  and  then  hit 
upon  remarks  that  would  do  credit  to  a  philosopher.  Some  of 
his  general  observations  came  so  home,  that  I  almost  thought 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


41 


they  were  meant  for  myself.  His  advice  about  adopting  a 
system  of  study  is  very  judicious.  I  will  immediately  put  it 
in  practice.  My  mind  shall  operate  henceforward  with  the 
regularity  of  clock-work." 

How  far  1  succeeded  in  adopting  this  plan,  how  1  fared  in 
the  further  i:)ursuit  of  knowledge,  and  how  I  succeeded  in  my 
riiit  to  Julia  Somerville,  may  afford  matter  for  a  further  com- 
p.uinication  to  tlie  public,  if  this  simple  record  of  my  early  life 
is  fortunate  enough  to  excite  any  curiosity. 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 
*'a  time  of  unexampled  prosperity." 

In  the  course  of  a  voyage  from  England,  I  once  fell  in  with 
a  convoy  of  merchant  ships  bound  for  the  West  Indies.  The 
weather  was  uncommonly  bland ;  and  the  ships  vied  with  each 
other  in  spreading  sail  to  catch  a  light,  favoring  breeze,  until 
their  hulls  were  almost  hidden  beneath  a  cloud  of  canvas. 
The  breeze  went  down  with  the  sun,  and  his  last  yeUow  rays 
shone  upon  a  thousand  sails,  idly  flapping  against  the  masts. 

I  exulted  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  augured  a  pros- 
perous voyage ;  but  the  veteran  master  of  the  ship  shook  his 
head,  and  pronounced  this  halcyon  calm  a  "  weather-breeder." 
And  so  it  proved.  A  storm  burst  forth  in  the  night;  the  sea 
roared  and  raged;  and  when  the  day  broke,  I  beheld  the  late 
gallant  convoy  scattered  in  every  direction;  some  dismasted, 
others  scudding  under  bare  poles,  and  many  firing  signals  of 
distress. 

I  have  since  been  occasionally  reminded  of  this  scene,  by 
those  calm,  sunny  seasons  in  the  commercial  world,  which  arc 
known  by  th.  name  of  "times  of  unexampled  prosperity." 
They  are  the  sure  weather-breeders  of  traffic.  Every  now  and 
then  the  world  is  visited  by  one  of  these  dehisive  seasons,  when 
"  the  credit  system,"  as  it  is  called,  expands  to  full  luxuriance, 
everybody  trusts  everybody;  a  bad  debt  is  a  thing  unheard  of 
the  broad  way  to  certain  and  sudden  wealth  lies  plain  and 
open;  and  men  are  tempted  to  dash  forward  boldly,  from  the 
facility  of  borrowing. 

Promissory  notes,  interchanged  between  scheming  indl- 


42 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


viduals,  are  liberally  discounted  at  the  banks,  "which  become 
so  many  mints  to  coin  words  into  cash ;  and  as  the  supply  of 
words  is  inexhaustible,  it  may  readily  be  supposed  what  a  vast 
amoimt  of  promissory  capital  is  soon  in  circulation.  Every  one 
now  talks  in  thousands ;  nothing  is  heard  but  gigantic  opera- 
tions in  trade ;  great  purchases  and  sales  of  real  property,  and 
immense  sums  made  at  every  transfer.  All,  to  be  sure,  as  yet 
exists  in  promise ;  but  the  believer  in  promises  calculates  the 
aggregate  as  soUd  capital,  and  falls  back  in  amazement  at  the 
amount  of  public  wealth,  the  "unexampled  state  of  public 
prosperity." 

Now  is  the  time  for  speculative  and  dreaming  or  designing 
men.  They  relate  their  dreams  and  projects  to  the  ignorant 
and  credulous,  dazzle  them  with  golden  visions,  and  set  them 
madding  after  shadows.  The  example  of  one  stimulates 
another;  speculation  rises  on  speculation;  bubble  rises  on 
bubble;  every  one  helps  with  his  breath  to  swell  the  windy 
superstructure,  and  admires  and  wonders  at  the  magnitude  of 
the  inflation  he  has  contributed  to  produce. 

Speculation  is  the  romance  of  trade,  and  casts  contempt  upon 
all  its  sober  realities.  It  renders  the  stock-jobber  a  magician, 
and  the  exchange  a  region  of  enchantment.  It  elevates  the 
merchant  into  a  kind  of  knight-errant,  or  rather  a  commercial 
Quixote.  The  slow  but  sure  gains  of  snug  percentage  become 
despicable  in  his  eyes;  no  "operation"  is  thought  worthy  of 
attention,  that  does  not  double  or  treble  the  investment.  No 
business  is  worth  following,  that  does  not  promise  an  imme- 
diate fortune.  As  he  sits  musing  over  his  ledger,  with  pen 
behind  his  ear,  he  is  lilie  La  Mancha's  hero  in  his  study, 
dreaming  over  his  books  of  chivalry.  His  dusty  counting- 
house  fades  before  his  eyes,  or  changes  into  a  Spanish  mine , 
he  gropes  after  diamonds,  or  dives  after  pearls.  The  subter- 
ranean garden  of  Aladdin  is  nothing  to  the  reahns  of  vv'ealth 
ill  at  break  upon  his  imagination. 

Could  this  delusion  always  last,  the  Hfe  of  a  merchant  would 
indeed  be  a  golden  dream ;  but  it  is  as  short  as  it  is  brilhant. 
Let  but  a  doubt  enter,  and  the  "season  of  unexampled  pros- 
perity "  is  at  end.  The  coinage  of  words  is  suddenly  curtailed ; 
the  promissory  capital  begins  to  vanish  into  smoke ;  a  panic 
succeeds,  and  the  whole  superstructure,  built  upon  credit, 
and  reared  by  speculation,  crumbles  to  the  ground,  leaving 
scarce  a  wreck  behind: 

"  It  is  such  stuff  as  dreams  ai-e  made  of." 


THE  GUI': AT  MTSSISSIPPf  BUBBLE. 


48 


Whon  a  iTian  of  business,  therefore,  lioars  on  every  side 
nunors  of  fortunes  suddenly  acquired;  when  he  finds  banks 
liberal,  and  brokers  busy ;  Avhen  he  sees  adventurers  flush  ct 
paper  capital,  and  full  of  scheme  and  enterprise ;  when  he  per- 
ceives a  greater  disposition  to  buy  than  to  sell ;  when  trade 
overflows  its  accustomed  channels  and  deluges  the  country; 
when  he  hears  of  new  regions  of  commercial  adventure;  o): 
distant  marts  and  distant  mines,  swallowing  merchandise  and 
disgorging  gold;  when  he  finds  joint  stock  companies  of  all 
Icinds  forming;  railroads,  canals,  and  locomotive  engines, 
•springing  up  on  every  side;  when  idlers  suddenly  become  men 
of  business,  and  dash  into  the  game  of  commerce  as  they  would 
into  the  hazards  of  the  faro  table ;  v/hen  he  beholds  the  streets 
ghttering  with  new  equipages,  palaces  conjured  up  by  the 
magic  of  speculation ;  tradesmen  flushed  with  sudden  success, 
and  vying  with,  each  other  in  ostentatious  expense ;  in  a  word, 
when  he  hears  the  whole  community  joining  in  the  theme  of 
"unexampled  prosperity,"  let  him  look  upon  the  whole  as  a 
"weather-breeder,"  and  prepare  for  the  impending  stomi. 

The  foregomg  remarks  are  intended  merely  as  a  prelude  to 
a  narrative  I  am  about  to  lay  before  the  pubhc,  of  one  of  the 
most  memorable  instances  of  the  infatuation  of  gain,  to  be 
found  in  the  whole  history  of  commerce.  I  allude  to  the 
famous  Mississippi  bubble.  It  is  a  matter  that  has  passed  into 
a  proverb,  and  become  ct  phrase  in  eveiy  one's  mouth,  yet  of 
which  not  one  merchant  in  ten  has  probably  a  distinct  idea. 
I  have  therefore  thought  that  an  authentic  account  of  it  would 
be  interesting  and  salutary,  at  the  present  moment,  v^hen  we 
are  suffering  under  the  effects  of  a  severe  access  of  the  credit 
system,  and  just  recovering  from  one  of  its  ruinous  delusions. 


Before  entering  into  the  story  of  this  famous  chimera,  it  is 
proper  to  give  a  few  particulars  concerning  the  individual  who 
engendered  it.  John  Law  was  born  in  Edinburgh  in  1671. 
His  father,  WiUiam  Law,  was  a  rich  goldsmith,  and  left  his 
son  an  estate  of  considerable  value,  called  Lauriston,  situated 
about  four  miles  from  Edinburgh.  Goldsmiths,  in  those  days, 
acted  occasionally  as  bankers,  and  his  father's  operations, 
under  tliis  character,  may  have  originally  turned  the  thoughts 
of  the  youth  to  the  science  of  calculation,  in  wiiich  he  became 
an  adept ;  so  that  at  an  early  age  he  excelled  in  playing  at  all 
games  of  combination. 


44 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


In  1694  he  appeared  in  London,  where  a  handsome  perso^ 
and  an  easy  and  insinuating  address,  gained  him  currency  in 
the  first  circles,  and  the  nick-name  of  "Beau  Law."  The  same 
personal  advantages  gave  him  success  in  the  world  of  gal- 
lantry, until  he  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  with  Beau 
"Wilson,  his  rival  in  fashion,  whom  he  killed  in  a  duel,  and 
then  fled  to  France,  to  avoid  prosecution. 

He  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  1700,  and  remained  there  seve- 
ral years ;  during  which  time  he  first  broached  his  great  credit 
system,  offering  to  supply  the  deficiency  of  coin  by  the  estab- 
Hshment  of  a  bank,  wliich,  according  to  his  views,  might  emit 
a  paper  currency,  equivalent  to  the  whole  landed  estate  of  the 
kingdom. 

His  scheme  excited  gi-eat  astonishment  in  Edinburgh ;  but, 
though  the  government  was  not  sufficiently  advanced  in  finan- 
cial knowledge  to  detect  the  fallacies  upon  which  it  was 
foimded,  Scottish  caution  and  suspicion  served  in  the  place 
of  Avisdom,  and  the  projeci:  v\-as  rejected.  Law  met  with  no 
better  success  with  the  English  Parliament ;  and  the  fatal  affair 
of  the  death  of  Wilson  still  hangin;^  over  him,  for  which  he 
had  never  been  able  to  procure  a  pardon,  he  again  went  to 
France. 

The  financial  affaii'S  of  France  were  at  this  time  in  a  deplor- 
able condition.  The  wars,  the  pomp  and  profusion,  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  his  religious  persecutions  of  whole  classes  of  the 
most  industrious  of  his  subjects,  had  exhausted  his  treasury, 
and  overwhelmed  the  nation  with  debt.  The  old  monarch 
clung  to  his  selfish  magnificence,  and  coidd  not  be  induced  to 
diminish  his  enormous  expenditure ;  and  his  minister  of  finance 
was  driven  to  his  wits'  end  to  devise  all  kinds  of  disastrous 
expedients  to  keep  up  the  royal  state,  and  to  extricate  the 
nation  from  its  embarrassments. 

In  this  state  of  things.  Law  ventured  to  bring  forward  his 
financial  project.  It  was  founded  on  the  plan  of  the  Bank 
of  England,  which  had  already  been  in  successfid  operation 
several  years.  He  met  with  inmiediate  patronage,  and  a  con- 
genial spirit,  in  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  had  married  a 
natural  daughter  of  the  king.  The  duke  had  been  astonished 
at  the  facihty  with  which  England  had  supported  the  burden 
of  a  public  debt,  created  by  the  wars  of  Anne  and  WiUiam, 
and  which  exceeded  in  amount  that  under  which  France  was 
groaning.  The  whole  matter  was  soon  explained  by  Law  to 
his  satisfaction.     The  latter  maintained  that  England  had 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


45 


stopped  at  the  mere  threshold  of  an  art  capable  of  creating 
unlimited  sources  of  national  wealth.  The  duke  was  dazzled 
with  Ms  splendid  views  and  specious  reasonings,  and  thought 
he  clearly  comprehended  his  system.  Demarets,  the  Comp- 
troller General  of  Finance,  was  not  so  easily  deceived.  He 
pronounced  the  plan  of  Law  more  pernicious  than  any  of  the 
disastrous  expedients  that  the  government  had  yet  been  driven 
to.  The  old  king  also,  Louis  XIV.,  detested  all  innovations, 
especially  those  which  came  from  a  rival  nation ;  the  project 
of  a  bank,  therefore,  was  utterly  rejected. 

Law  remamed  for  a  while  in  Paris,  leading  a  gay  and  affluent 
existence,  owing  to  his  handsome  person,  easy  manners,  flexi- 
ble temper,  and  a  faro-bank  w^hich  he  had  set  up.  His  agree- 
able career  was  interrupted  by  a  message  from  D'Argenson, 
Lieutenant  General  of  Police,  ordeiing  him  to  quit  Paris, 
alleging  that  he  was  ' '  rather  too  skilful  at  the  game  tchich  he 
had  introduced.^'' 

For  several  succeeding  years  he  shifted  his  residence  from 
state  to  state  of  Italy  and  Germany ;  offering  his  scheme  of 
finance  to  every  court  that  he  visited,  but  without  success, 
riie  Duke  of  Savoy,  Victor  Amadous,  afterward  King  of  Sar- 
dinia, was  much  struck  with  his  i3roject ;  but  after  considering 
it  for  a  time,  replied,  "Ja?ri  not  sufficiently  powerful  to  ruin 
myself. " 

The  shxifting,  adventurous  life  of  Law,  and  the  equivocal 
means  by  which  he  appeared  to  live,  playing  high,  and  always 
with  great  success,  threw  a  cloud  of  suspicion  over  him,  wher- 
ever he  went,  and  caused  him  to  be  expelled  by  the  magistracy 
from  the  semi-commercial,  semi-aristocratical  cities  of  Venice 
and  Genoa. 

The  events  of  1715  brought  Law  back  again  to  Paris.  Louis 
XIV.  was  dead.  Louis  XV.  was  a  mere  child,  and  during  his 
minority  the  Duke  of  Orleans  held  the  reigns  of  government  as 
■Regent.    Law  had  at  length  found  his  man. 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  has  been  differently  represented  by 
different  contemporaries.  He  appears  to  have  had  excellent 
natural  qualities,  perverted  by  a  bad  education.  He  was  of 
the  middle  size,  easy  and  grace Pul,  with  an  agreeable  counte- 
nance, and  open,  affable  demeanor.  His  mind  was  quick  i'liA 
sagacious,  rather  than  profound;  and  his  quickness  of  intel- 
lect, and  excellence  of  memory,  supplied  the  lack  of  studious 
application.  His  wit  was  prompt  and  pungent ;  he  expressed 
himself  with  vivacity  and  precision  his  imagination  was  vi\id, 


46 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


his  temperament  sanguine  and  joyous;  his  courage  daring. 
His  mother,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  expressed  his  character  in 
a  jeu  d'esprit.  "The  fairies,"  said  she,  "were  invited  to  be 
present  at  his  birth,  and  each  one  conferred  a  talent  on  my 
son ;  he  i^ossesses  them  all.  Unfortunately,  we  had  forgotten 
to  invite  an  old  fairy,  who,  arriving  after  all  the  others,  ex- 
claimed, '  He  shaD  have  all  the  talents,  excepting  tliat  to  make 
a  good  use  of  them.' " 

Under  proper  tuition,  the  Duke  might  have  risen  to  real 
greatness ;  but  in  his  early  years,  he  was  put  under  the  tute- 
lage of  the  Abbe  Dubois,  one  of  the  subtlest  and  basest  spirits 
that  ever  intrigued  its  way  into  eminent  place  and  power. 
The  Abbe  was  of  low  origin,  and  despicable  exterior,  totally 
destitute  of  morals,  and  perfidious  in  the  extreme ;  but  with  a 
supple,  insinuating  address,  and  an  accommodating  spirit, 
tolerant  of  all  kinds  of  profligacy  in  others.  Conscious  of  his 
own  inherent  baseness,  he  sought  to  secure  an  influence  over 
his  pupil,  by  corrupting  his  principles  and  fostering  his  vices ; 
he  debased  him,  to  keep  himself  from  being  despised.  Unfor- 
timately  he  succeeded.  To  the  early  precepts  of  this  infamous 
pander  have  been  attributed  those  excesses  that  disgraced  the 
manhood  of  the  Eegent,  and  gave  a  licentious  character  to  his 
whole  course  of  government.  His  love  of  pleasure,  quickened 
and  indulged  by  those  who  should  have  restrained  it,  led  him 
into  all  kinds  of  sensual  indulgence.  He  had  been  taught  to 
think  lightly  of  the  most  serious  duties  and  sacred  ties ;  to  turn 
virtue  into  a  jest,  and  consider  religion  mere  hypocrisy.  He 
was  a  gay  misanthrope,  that  had  a  sovereign  but  sportive  con- 
*  tempt  for  mankind;  behoved  that  his  most  devoted  servant 
would  be  his  enemy,  if  interest  prompted ;  and  maintained  that 
an  honest  man  was  he  who  had  the  art  to  conceal  that  he  was 
the  contrary. 

He  surrounded  himself  with  a  set  of  dissolute  men  like  him- 
self ;  who,  let  loose  from  the  restraint  under  which  they  had 
been  held,  during  the  latter  hypocritical  days  of  Louis  XIV., 
now  gave  way  to  every  kind  of  debauchery.  With  these  men 
the  Eegent  used  to  shut  himself  up,  after  the  hours  of  business, 
and  excluding  all  .crraver  persons  and  graver  concerns,  celebrate 
the  most  drunken  and  disgusting  orgies;  where  obscenity  and 
blaspheiny  formed  the  seasoning  of  conversation.  For  the 
profligate  companions  of  these  revels,  he  invented  the  appella- 
tion of  his  roues,  the  literal  meaning  of  which  is  men  broken 
on  the  wheel ;  intended,  no  doubt,  to  express  their  broken-down 


THE  OllhJAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


47 


characters  and  dislocated  f oi^unes ;  although  a  contemporary 
asserts  that  it  designated  the  punishment  that  most  of  them 
merited.  Madame  de  Labran,  Avho  was  present  at  onQ  of  the 
Regent  s  suppers,  was  disgusted  by  the  conduct  and  conversa- 
tion of  the  host  and  his  guests,  and  observed  at  table,  that  God, 
after  he  had  created  man,  took  the  refuse  clay  that  was  left, 
and  made  of  it  the  souls  of  lacqueys  and  princes. 

Such  v/as  the  man  that  now  ruled  the  destinies  of  France. 
Law  found  him  full  of  perplexities,  from  the  disastrous  state 
of  the  finances.  He  had  already  tampered  with  the  coinage, 
calling  in  the  coin  of  the  nation,  re-stamping  it,  and  issuing  it 
at  a  nominal  increase  of  one  fifth ;  thus  defrauding  the  nation 
out  of  twenty  per  cent  of  its  capital.  He  was  not  likely,  there- 
fore, to  be  scrupulous  about  any  means  likely  to  relieve  him 
from  financial  difficulties ;  he  had  even  been  led  to  listen  to  the 
cruel  alternative  of  a  national  bankruptcy. 

Under  these  circumstances.  Law  confidently  brought  forward 
his  scheme  of  a  bank,  that  was  to  pay  off  the  national  debt,  in- 
crease the  revenue,  and  at  the  same  time  diminish  the  taxes. 
The  following  is  stated  as  the  theory  by  which  he  recommended 
his  system  to  the  Regent.  The  credit  enjoyed  by  a  banker  or 
a  merchant,  he  observed,  increases  his  capital  tenfold ;  that  is 
to  say,  he  who  has  a  capital  of  one  hundred  thousand  livres, 
may,  if  he  possess  sufficient  credit,  extend  liis  operations  to  a 
million,  and  reap  profits  to  that  amount.  In  hke  manner,  a  state 
that  can  collect  into  a  bank  all  the  current  coin  of  the  kingdom, 
would  be  as  powerful  as  if  its  capital  were  increased  tenfold.  The 
specie  must  be  drawn  into  the  bank,  not  by  way  of  loan,  or  by 
taxations,  but  in  the  way  of  deposit.  This  might  be  effected  in 
different  modes,  either  by  inspiring  confidence,  or  by  exerting 
authority.  One  mode,  he  observed,  had  already  been  in  use. 
Each  time  that  a  state  makes  a  re-coinage,  it  becomes  momen- 
tarily the  depositary  of  all  the  money  called  in,  belonging  to 
the  subjects  of  that  state.  His  bank  was  to  effect  the  same 
purpose;  that  is  to  say,  to  receive  in  deposit  all  the  coin  of  the 
kingdom,  but  to  give  in  exchange  its  bills,  which,  being  of  an 
invariable  value,  bearing  an  interest,  and  being  payable  on 
demand,  would  not  only  supply  the  place  of  coin,  but  prove  a 
better  and  more  profitable  currency. 

The  Regent  caught  with  avidity  at  the  scheme.  It  suited  his 
bold,  reckless  spirit,  and  his  grasping  extravagance.  Not  that 
he  was  altogether  the  dupe  of  Law's  specious  projects ;  still  he 
was  apt,  like  many  other  men,  unskilled  in  the  arcana  of 


48 


TUE  CliATON  PAPERS. 


finance,  to  mistake  the  multiplication  of  money  for  the  miil- 
tipUcation  of  wealth;  not  understanding  that  it  was  a  mere 
agent  or  instrument  in  the  interchange  of  traffic,  to  represent 
the  value  of  the  various  productions  of  industry ;  and  that  an 
increased  circulation  of  coin  or  bank  bills,  in  the  shape  of  cur- 
rency, only  adds  a  proportionably  increased  and  fictitious 
value  to  such  productions.  Law  enlisted  the  vanity  of  the 
Regent  m  his  cause.  He  persuaded  Mm  that  he  saw  more 
clearly  than  others  into  sublime  theories  of  finance,  which 
were  quite  above  the  ordinary  apprehension.  He  used  to  de- 
clare that,  excepting  the  Regent  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  no 
one  had  thoroughly  comprehended  his  system. 

It  is  certain  that  it  met  with  strong  opposition  from  the 
Regent's  ministers,  the  Duke  de  Noailles  and  the  Chancellor 
d'Anguesseau ;  and  it  was  no  less  strenuously  opposed  by  the 
Parhament  of  Paris.  Law,  however,  had  a  potent  though 
secret  coadjutor  in  the  Abbe  Dubois,  now  rising,  during  the 
regency,  into  great  i^olitical  power,  and  who  retained  a  baneful 
influence  over  the  mind  of  the  Regent.  This  wily  priest,  as 
avaricious  as  he  was  ambitious,  drew  large  simis  from  Law  as 
subsidies,  and  aided  him  greatly  in  many  of  his  most  pernicious 
operations.  He  aided  hun,  in  the  present  instance,  to  fortify 
the  mind  of  the  Regent  against  all  the  remonstrances  of  his 
ministers  and  the  parliament. 

Accordingly,  on  the  2d  of  May,  1716,  letters  patent  were 
gi^anted  to  Law,  to  establish  a  bank  of  deposit,  discount,  and 
circulation,  under  the  firm  of  "Law  and  Company,"  to  con- 
tinue for  twenty  years.  The  capital  was  fixed  at  six  millions 
of  livres,  divided  into  shares  of  five  hundred  livres  each,  which 
were  to  be  sold  for  twenty-five  per  cent  of  the  regent's  debased 
coin,  and  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  pubhc  secui-ities ;  which 
were  then  at  a  great  reduction  from  their  nominal  value,  and 
which  then  amounted  to  nmeteen  hundred  millions.  The  os- 
tensible object  of  the  bank,  as  set  forth  in  the  patent,  was  to 
encourage  the  commerce  and  manufactures  of  France.  Tlie 
louis  d'ors  and  crowns  of  the  bank  were  always  to  retain  the 
same  standard  of  value,  and  its  bills  to  be  payable  in  them  on 
demand. 

At  the  outset,  while  the  bank  was  limited  in  its  operations, 
and  while  its  paper  really  represented  the  specie  m  its  vaults, 
it  seemed  to  realize  aU  that  had  been  promised  from  it.  It 
rapidly  acquired  public  confidence,  and  an  extended  circula- 
tion, and  produced  an  activity  in  commerce,  unknown  under 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


49 


che  baneful  government  of  Louis  XIV.  As  the  bills  of  the 
bank  bore  an  intercut,  and  as  it  was  stipulated  they  would  be 
of  invariable  value,  and  as  hints  had  been  artfully  circulated 
that  the  coin  would  experience  suc(-'essive  diminution,  every- 
body hastened  to  the  bank  to  exchange  gold  and  silver  for 
paper.  So  great  became  the  throng  of  depositors,  and  so  in- 
tense their  eagerness,  that  there  was  quite  a  press  and  struggle 
at  the  bank  door,  and  a  ludicrous  panic  was  awakened,  as  if 
there  was  danger  of  their  not  being  admitted.  An  anecdote  of 
the  time  relates  that  one  of  the  clerks,  with  an  ommous  smile, 
called  out  to  the  struggling  multitude,  "  Have  a  little  patience, 
my  friends ;  wc  mean  to  take  all  your  money an  assertion 
disastrously  verified  in  the  sequel. 

Thus,  by  the  simple  estabhshment  of  a  bank,  Law  and  the 
Regent  obtained  pledges  of  confidence  for  the  consummation  of 
further  and  more  complicated  schemes,  as  yet  hidden  from  the 
public.  In  a  little  while,  the  bank  shares  rose  enormously,  and 
the  amount  of  its  notes  in  circulation  exceeded  one  hundred 
and  ten  miUions  of  livres.  A  subtle  stroke  of  policy  had  ren- 
dered it  popular  with  the  aristocracy.  Louis  XIV.  had  several 
years  previously  imposed  an  income  tax  of  a  tenth,  giving  liis 
royal  word  that  it  should  cease  in  1717.  This  tax  had  been 
exceedingly  irksome  to  the  privileged  orders ;  and  in  the  present 
disastrous  times  they  had  dreaded  an  augmenta,ticn  of  it.  In 
consequence  of  the  successful  operation  of  Law's  scheme,  how- 
ever, the  tax  was  abolished,  and  now  nothing  was  to  be  heard 
among  the  nobility  and  clergy,  but  praises  of  the  Regent  and 
the  bank. 

Hitherto  aU  had  gone  well,  and  ail  might  have  continued  to 
go  well,  had  not  the  paper  system  been  further  expanded. 
But  Law  had  yet  the  grandest  part  of  liis  scheme  to  develop. 
He  had  to  open  his  ideal  world  of  speculation,  his  El  Dorado 
of  unbounded  wealth.  The  English  had  brought  the  vast 
imaginary  commerce  of  the  South  Seas  in  aid  of  their  bank- 
ing operations.  Law  sought  to  bring,  as  an  immense  auxiliary 
of  his  banli,  the  whole  trade  of  the  Mississippi.  Under  this 
name  was  mcluded  not  merely  the  river  so  called,  but  the  vast 
region  known  as  Louisiana,  extending  from  north  latitude  29° 
up  to  Canada  in  north  latitude  40°.  This  country  had  been 
granted  by  Louis  Xi  V.  to  the  Sieur  Crozat,  but  he  had  been 
induced  to  resign  his  patent.  In  conformity  to  the  plea  of 
Mr.  Law,  letters  patent  were  granted  in  August,  1717,  for  the 
creation  of  a  commercial  company,  which  was  to  have  the 


60 


THE  CRA  YON  FAPEEJS. 


colonizing  of  this  country,  and  the  monopoly  of  its  trade?  and 
resources,  and  of  the  beaver  or  fur  trade  with  Canada.  It  was 
called  the  Western,  but  became  better  known  as  the  Missis- 
sippi Company.  The  capital  was  fixed  at  one  hundred  millions 
of  livres,  divided  into  shares,  bearing  an  interest  of  four  per 
cent,  which  were  subscribed  for  in  the  public  securities.  As 
the  bank  was  to  co-operate  with  the  company,  the  Regent 
ordered  that  its  bills  should  be  received  the  same  as  coin,  in 
all  payments  of  the  public  revenue.  Law  was  appointed  cliief 
director  of  this  company,  which  was  an  exact  copy  of  the  Earl 
of  Oxford's  South  Sea  Company,  set  on  foot  in  1711,  and  which 
distracted  aU  England  with  the  frenzy  of  speculation.  In  hke 
mamier  with  the  delusive  picturings  given  in  that  memorable 
scheme  of  the  sources  of  rich  trade  to  be  opened  in  the  South 
Sea  countries,  Law  held  forth  magnificent  prospects  of  the 
fortunes  to  be  made  in  colonizing  Louisiana,  which  was  repre- 
sented as  a  veritable  land  of  promise,  capable  of  yielduig  every 
variety  of  the  most  precious  produce.  Reports,  too,  were  art- 
fully circidated,  with  great  mystery,  as  if  to  the  "chosen 
few,"  of  mines  of  gold  and  silver  recently  discovered  in  Loui- 
siana, and  which  would  insure  instant  wealth  to  the  early  pur- 
chasers. These  confidential  wiiispers  of  course  soon  became 
public ;  and  were  confirmed  by  travellers  fresh  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  doubtless  bribed,  who  had  seen  the  mines  in 
question,  and  declared  them  superior  in  richness  to  those  of 
Mexico  and  Peru.  Nay,  more,  ocular  proof  was  fuTnished  to 
public  creduhty,  in  ingots  of  gold  conveyed  to  the  mint,  as  if 
just  brought  from  the  mines  of  Louisiana. 

Extraordinary  measures  were  adopted  to  force  a  coloniza- 
tion. An  edict  was  issued  to  collect  and  transport  settlers  to 
the  Mississippi.  The  pohce  lent  its  aid.  The  streets  and  pri- 
sons of  Paris,  and  of  the  provincial  cities,  were  swept  of  mendi- 
cants and  vagabonds  of  aU  kinds,  who  were  conveyed  to  Havre 
do  Grace.  About  six  thousand  were  crowded  mto  ships,  where 
no  precautions  had  been  taken  for  their  health  or  acconmioda- 
tion.  Instruments  of  all  kinds  proper  for  the  working  of 
mines  -were  ostentatiously  paraded  in  i^ublic,  and  put  on  board 
the  vessels ;  and  the  whole  set  sail  for  tins  fabled  El  Dorado, 
wliich  was  to  prove  the  grave  of  the  greater  part  of  its 
vn:etched  colonists. 

D'Anguesseau,  the  chancellor,  a  man  of  probity  and  integ- 
rity, still  hfted  his  voice  against  the  paper  system  of  Law,  and 
his  project  of  colonization,  and  was  eloquent  and  prophetic  m 


TUE  GREAT  MTSSISSim  BUBBLE.  ol 

picturing  the  evils  they  were  calculated  to  produce ;  the  pri- 
vate distress  and  pubhc  degradation ;  the  corruption  of  moi-als 
and  manners ;  the  triumph  of  knaves  and  schemers ;  tlie  ruin 
of  fortunes,  and  downfall  of  families.  He  was  incited  more 
and  more  to  tliis  opposition  by  the  Duke  de  Noailles,  the  Min- 
ister of  Finance,  who  was  .ioalous  of  the  growing  ascendancy 
of  Law  over  the  mind  of  the  Eegent,  but  was  less  honest  than 
t]ie  chancellor  in  his  opposition.  The  Regent  was  excessively 
annoyed  by  the  difficulties  they  conjured  up  in  the  way  of  his 
darlmg  schemes  of  finance,  and  the  countenance  they  gave  to 
the  opposition  of  parhament ;  which  body,  disgusted  more  and 
more  with  the  abuses  of  the  regency,  and  the  system  of  Law, 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  carry  its  remonstrances  to  the  very  foot 
of  the  throne. 

He  determined  to  relieve  liimself  from  these  two  mmisters, 
who,  either  through  honesty  or  policy,  interfered  with  all  his 
plans.  Accordingly,  on  the  28th  of  January,  1718,  he  dis- 
missed the  chancellor  from  office,  and  exiled  him  to  his  estate 
in  the  country ;  and  shortly  afterward  removed  the  Duke  de 
Noailles  from  the  administration  of  the  finances. 

The  opposition  of  parliament  to  the  Regent  and  his  measures 
was  carried  on  with  increasing  violence.  That  body  aspired  to 
an  equal  authority  with  the  Regent  in  the  administration  of 
affau'S,  and  x^retended,  by  its  decree,  to  suspend  an  edict  of 
the  regency,  ordering  a  new  coinage  and  altering  the  value  of 
the  currency.  But  its  chief  hostility  was  levelled  against 
Law,  a  foreigner  and  a  heretic,  and  one  who  was  considered 
by  a  majority  of  the  members  in  the  light  of  a  malefactor.  In 
fact,  so  far  was  this  hostility  carried,  that  secret  measures  were 
taken  to  investigate  his  malversations,  and  to  collect  evidence 
against  him;  and  it  was  resolved  in  parliament  that,  should 
the  testimony  collected  justify  their  suspicions,  Ihey  would 
have  him  seized  and  brought  before  them ;  would  give  him  a 
brief  trial,  and  if  convicted,  would  hang  him  in  the  court- 
yai'd  of  the  palace,  and  throw  open  the  gates  after  the  execu- 
tion, that  the  public  might  behold  his  corpse ! 

Law  received  intimation  of  the  danger  hanging  over  him, 
and  was  in  terrible  trepidation.  He  took  refuge  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  the  residence  of  the  Regent,  and  implored  his  protec- 
tion. The  Regent  himself  was  embarrassed  by  the  sturdy 
opposition  of  parhament,  which  contemplated  nothing  less 
than  a  decree  reversing  most  of  his  pubhc  measures,  espe- 
cially those  of  finance.    His  indecision  kept  Law  for  a  time  in 


62 


THE  CJIA  TON  PAPERS. 


an  agony  of  terror  and  suspense.  Finally,  by  assembling  a 
board  of  justice,  and  bringing  to  his  aid  the  absolute  authority 
of  the  King,  he  triumphed  over  parhament  and  relieved  Law 
from  his  dread  of  being  hanged. 

The  system  now  went  on  Avith  flowing  sail.  The  Western  or 
Mississippi  Company,  being  identified  with  the  bank,  rapidly 
increased  in  power  and  privileges.  One  monopoly  after  an- 
other  was  granted  to  it ;  the  trade  of  the  Indian  seas ;  the  slave 
trade  with  Senegal  and  Guinea ;  the  farming  of  tobacco ;  the 
national  coinage,  etc.  Each  new  privilege  was  made  a  pretext 
for  issuing  more  bills,  and  caused  an  immense  advance  in  the 
price  of  stock.  At  length,  on  the  4th  of  December,  1718,  the 
Regent  gave  the  establishment  the  imposing  title  of  The  Royal 
Bank,  and  proclaimed  that  he  had  effected  the  purchase  of  all 
the  shares,  the  proceeds  of  which  he  had  added  to  its  capital. 
This  measure  seemed  to  shock  the  public  feelmg  more  than 
any  other  connected  with  the  system,  and  roused  the  indigna- 
tion of  parliament.  The  French  nation  had  been  so  accus- 
tomed to  attach  an  idea  of  everything  noble,  lofty,  and  mag- 
nificent, to  the  royal  name  and  person,  especially  during  the 
stately  and  sumptuous  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  they  couJd 
not  at  first  tolerate  the  idea  of  royalty  being  in  any  degTce 
mingled  with  matters  of  traffic  and  finance,  and  the  king 
being  in  a  manner  a  banker.  It  was  one  of  the  do\vnward 
steps,  however,  by  which  royalty  lost  its  illusive  splendor  in 
France,  and  became  gradually  cheapened  m  the  pubhc  mind. 

Arbitrary  measures  now  began  to  be  taken  to  force  the 
bills  of  the  bank  into  artificial  currency.  On  the  27th  of 
December  appeared  an  order  in  council,  forbidding,  under 
severe  penalties,  the  payment  of  any  sum  above  six  himdred 
livres  in  gold  or  silver.  This  decree  rendered  bank  bills  neces- 
sary in  all  transactions  of  purchase  and  sale,  and  called  for  a 
new  emission.  The  prohibition  was  occasionally  evaded  or 
opposed ;  confiscations  were  the  consequence ;  informers  were 
rewarded,  and  spies  and  traitors  began  to  spring  up  in  aU  the 
domestic  walks  of  life. 

The  worst  effect  of  this  illusive  system  was  the  mania  for 
gain,  or  rather  for  gambling  in  stocks,  that  now  seized  upon 
the  Vvdiole  nation.  Under  the  exciting  efl'ects  of  lying  reports, 
and  the  forcinr;  effects  of  government  decrees,  the  shares  of 
the  company  went  on  rising  in  value  until  they  reached 
thirteen  hundred  per  cent.  Nothing  was  now  spoken  of  but 
the  price  of  shares,  and  the  immense  fortunes  suddenly  made 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


53 


by  lucliy  speculators.  Those  wliom  Law  had  deluded  used 
every  means  to  delude  others.  The  most  extravagant  dreams 
were  indulged,  concerning  the  wealth  to  flovv^  in  upon  the  com- 
pany from  its  colonies,  its  ti-ade,  and  its  various  monopolies. 
It  is  true,  nothing  as  yet  had  been  realized,  nor  could  in  some 
time  be  realized,  from  these  distant  sources,  even  if  pro- 
ductive ;  but  the  imaginations  of  speculators  are  ever  in  the 
advance,  and  their  conjectures  are  immediately  converted  into 
facts.  Lying  reports  now  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  of  sure 
avenues  to  fortune  suddenly  thrown  open.  The  more  extra- 
vagant the  fable,  the  more  readily  was  it  believed.  To  doubt 
was  to  awaken  anger,  or  incur  ridicule.  In  a  time  of  public 
infatuation,  it  requires  no  small  exercise  of  courage  to  doubt  a 
popular  fallacy. 

Paris  now  became  the  centre  of  attraction  for  the  adven- 
turous and  the  avaricious,  who  flocked  to  it,  not  merely  from 
the  provinces,  but  from  neighboring  countries.  A  stock  ex- 
change was  established  in  a  house  in  the  Rue  Quincampoix, 
and  became  immediately  the  gathering  place  of  stock-jobbers. 
The  exchange  opened  at  seven  o'clock,  with  the  beat  of  drum 
and  sound  of  bell,  and  closed  at  night  with  the  same  signals. 
Guards  were  stationed  at  each  end  of  the  street,  to  maintain 
order,  and  exclude  carriages  and  horses.  The  whole  street 
swarmed  throughout  the  day  like  a  bee-hive.  Bargains  of  all 
kinds  were  seized  upon  with  avidity.  Shares  of  stock  passed 
from  hand  to  hand,  mounting  in  value,  one  knew  not  why. 
Fortunes  were  made  in  a  moment,  as  if  by  magic ;  and  every 
lucky  bargain  prompted  those  around  to  a  more  desperate 
throw  of  the  die.  The  fever  went  on,  increasing  in  intensity 
as  the  day  declined ;  and  when  the  drum  beat,  and  the  bell 
rang,  at  night,  to  close  the  exchange,  there  were  exclamations 
of  impatience  and  despair,  as  if  the  wheel  of  fortune  had  sud- 
denly been  stopped  when  about  to  make  its  luckiest  evolution. 

To  engulf  all  classes  in  this  ruinous  vortex,  Law  now  split 
the  shares  of  fifty  millions  of  stock  each  into  one  hundred 
shares;  thus,  as  in  the  splitting  of  lottery  tickets,  accommo- 
dating the  venture  to  the  humblest  purse.  Society  was  thus 
stirred  up  to  its  very  dregs,  and  adventurers  of  the  lowest 
order  hurried  to  the  stock  market.  All  honest,  industrious 
pursuits,  and  modest  gains,  w^ere  now  despised.  Wealth  was 
to  be  obtained  instantly,  without  labor,  and  without  stint. 
Tlie  upper  classes  were  as  base  in  their  venality  as  the  lower. 
The  highest  and  most  powerful  nobles,  abandoning  all  gene- 


64 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


rous  pursuits  and  lofty  aims,  engaged  in  the  vile  scuffle  for 
gain.  They  were  even  baser  than  the  lower  classes;  for  some 
of  them,  who  were  members  of  the  council  of  the  regency, 
abused  their  station  and  their  influence,  and  promoted  mea- 
sures by  which  shares  arose  while  m  their  hands,  and  they 
made  immense  profits. 

The  Duke  de  Bourbon,  the  Prince  of  Conti,  the  Dukes  de  la 
Force  and  D'Antin  were  among  the  foremost  of  these  illustrious 
stock-jobbers.  They  were  nicknamed  the  Mississippi  Lords, 
and  they  smiled  at  the  sneering  title.  In  fact,  the  usual  distinc- 
tions of  society  had  lost  their  consequence,  under  the  reign 
of  this  new  passion.  Rank,  talent,  mihtary  fame,  no  longer 
inspired  deference.  All  respect  for  others,  all  seif-respect, 
were  forgotten  m  the  mercenary  struggle  of  the  stock-market. 
Even  prelates  and  ecclesiastical  corporations,  forgetting  their 
true  objects  of  devotion,  mingled  among  the  votaries  of  Mam- 
mon. They  were  not  behind  those  who  wielded  the  civil 
power  in  fabricating  ordinances  suited  to  their  avaricious  pur- 
poses. Theological  decisions  forthwith  appeared,  in  which  the 
anathema  launched  by  the  Church  against  usury,  was  con- 
veniently construed  as  not  extending  to  the  traffic  in  bank 
shares ! 

'  The  Abbe  Dubois  entered  into  the  mysteries  of  stock-jobbing 
with  all  the  zeal  of  an  apostle,  and  enriched  himself  by  the 
spoils  of  the  credulous;  and  he  continually  drew  large  simis 
from  Law,  as  considerations  for  his  political  influence.  Faith- 
less to  his  country,  in  the  course  of  his  gambling  speculations 
he  transferred  to  England  a  great  amount  of  specie,  which 
had  been  paid  into  the  royal  treasury ;  thus  contributing  to 
the  subsequent  dearth  of  the  precious  metals. 

The  female  sex  participated  in  this  sordid  frenzy.  Prin- 
cesses of  the  blood,  and  ladies  of  the  highest  nobihty,  were 
among  the  most  rapacious  of  stock-jobbers.  The  Regent 
seemed  to  have  the  riches  of  Croesus  at  his  command,  and 
lavished  money  by  hundreds  of  thousands  upon  his  female 
relatives  and  favorites,  as  well  as  upon  his  roiies^  the  dissolute 
companions  of  his  debauches.  "My  son,"  writes  the  Re- 
gent's mother,  in  her  correspondence,  "gave  me  shares  to  the 
amount  of  two  millions,  which  I  distributed  among  my  house t 
hold.  The  King  also  took  several  milhons  for  his  own  house- 
hold. All  the  royal  family  have  had  them;  all  the  children 
and  gi'andchildren  of  France,  and  the  princes  of  the  blood." 

Luxury  and  extravagance  kept  pace  with  this  sudden  infla- 


THE  GEE  AT  MISSISSIPri  BUBBLE. 


55 


tion  of  fancied  wealth.  The  hereditary  palaces  of  nobles  were 
pulled  down,  and  rebuilt  on  a  scale  of  augmented  splendor. 
Entertainments  were  given,  of  incredible  cost  and  magnificence. 
Never  before  had  been  such  display  in  houses,  furniture,  equi- 
pages, and  anmsements.  This  was  particularly  the  case  among 
persons  of  the  lower  ranks,  who  had  suddenly  become  possessed 
of  millions.  Ludicrous  anecdotes  are  related  of  some  of  these 
upstarts.  One,  who  had  just  launched  a  splendid  carriage, 
when  about  to  use  it  for  the  first  time,  instead  of  getting  in  at 
the  door,  mounted,  through  habitude,  to  his  accustomed  place 
behind.  Some  ladies  of  quality,  seeing  a  well-dressed  woman 
covered  with  diamonds,  but  whom  nobody  knew,  alight  from  a 
very  handsome  carriage,  inquired  who  she  was  of  the  footman. 
He  replied,  with  a  sneer:  "It  is  a  lady  who  has  recently  tum- 
bled from  a  garret  into  this  carriage."  Mr.  Law's  domestics 
were  said  to  become  in  like  manner  suddenly  enriched  by  the 
crumbs  that  fell  from  his  table.  His  coachman,  having  made 
his  fortune,  retired  from  his  service.  Mr.  Law  requested  him 
to  procure  a  coachman  in  his  place.  He  appeared  the  next  day 
with  two,  whom  he  pronounced  equally  good,  and  told  Mr. 
Law:  "Take  which  of  them  you  choose,  and  I  will  take  the 
other!" 

Nor  were  these  novi  homini  treated  with  the  distance  and 
disdain  they  would  formerly  have  experienced  from  the  haughty 
aristocracy  of  France.  The  pride  of  the  old  noblesse  had  been 
stifled  by  the  stronger  instinct  of  avarice.  They  rather  sought 
the  intimacy  and  confidence  of  these  lucky  upstarts;  and  it  has 
been  observed  that  a  nobleman  would  gladly  take  his  seat  at 
the  table  of  the  fortunate  lacquey  of  yesterda3v',  in  hopes  of 
learning  from  him  the  secret  of  growing  rich ! 

Law  now  went  about  with  a  countenance  radiant  with  suc- 
cess and  apparently  dispensing  wealth  on  every  side.  ' '  He  is 
admirably  skilled  in  all  that  relates  to  finance,"  writes  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans,  the  Regent's  mother,  "and  has  put  the 
affairs  of  the  state  in  such  good  order  that  all  the  king's  debts 
have  been  paid.  He  is  so  much  run  after  that  he  has  no 'repose 
night  or  day.  A  duchess  even  kissed  his  hand  pubhcly.  If  a 
duchess  can  do  this,  what  vv'ill  other  ladies  do?" 

Wherever  he  went,  his  path,  we  are  told,  was  beset  by  a 
sordid  throng,  who  waited  to  see  him  pass,  and  sought  to  ob- 
tain the  favor  of  a  word,  a  nod,  or  smile,  as  if  a  mere  glance 
from  him  would  bestow  fortune.  When  at  home,  his  house 
was  absolutelj  besieged  by  furious  candidates  for  fortune. 


56 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


''They  forced  the  doors,"  says  the  Duke  de  St.  Simon;  "they 
scaled  his  windows  from  the  garden;  they  made  their  way 
into  his  cabinet  down  the  chimney  I" 

The  same  venal  court  was  paid  by  all  classes  to  his  family. 
The  highest  ladies  of  the  court  vied  with  each  other  in  mean- 
nesses to  purchase  the  lucrative  friendship  of  Mrs.  Law  and  her 
daughter.  They  waited  upon  them  with  as  much  assiduity  and 
adulation  as  if  they  had  been  princesses  of  the  blood.  The 
Regent  one  day  expressed  a  desire  that  some  duchess  should 
accompany  his  daughter  to  Genoa.  "  My  Lord,"  said  some  one 
present,  ' '  if  you  would  have  a  choice  from  among  the  duchesses, 
you  need  but  send  to  Mrs.  Law's ;  you  Avill  find  them  all  assem- 
bled there." 

The  wealth  of  Law  rapidly  mcreased  with  the  expansion  of 
the  bubble.  In  the  course  of  a  few  months  he  purchased  four- 
teen titled  estates,  paying  for  them  in  paper ;  and  the  pubhc 
hailed  these  sudden  and  vast  acquisitions  of  landed  property  as 
so  many  proofs  of  the  soundness  of  his  system.  In  one  instance 
he  met  vAfh  a  shrewd  bargainer,  who  had  not  the  general  faith 
in  his  paper  money.  The  President  de  Novion  insisted  on  being 
paid  for  an  estate  in  hard  coin.  Law  accordingly  brought  the 
amount,  four  hundred  thousand  livres,  in  specie,  saying,  with 
a  sarcastic  smile,  that  he  preferred  paying  in  money  as  its 
weight  rendered  it  a,  mere  incumbrance.  A.3  it  happened,  the 
president  could  give  no  clear  title  to  the  land,  and  the  money 
had  to  be  refunded.  He  paid  it  back  in  i^ciper,  which  Law 
dared  not  refuse,  lest  he  should  depreciate  it  in  the  market. 

The  course  of  illusory  credit  went  on  triumphantly  for  eigh- 
teen months.  Law  had  neaidy  fulfilled  one  of  his  promises,  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  public  debt  had  been  paid  off;  but  how 
paid?  In  bank  shares,  which  had  been  trumped  up  several 
hundred  ^qv  cent  above  their  value,  and  which  w^ere  to  vanish 
like  smoke  in  the  hands  of  the  holders. 

One  of  the  most  striking  attributes  of  Law  was  the  impertur- 
bable assurance  and  self-possession  Avith  which  he  rephed  to 
every  objection,  and  found  a  solution  for  every  problem.  He 
had  the  dexterity  of  a  juggler  in  evading  difficulties ;  and  wha* 
was  peculiar,  made  figures  themselves,  which  are  the  very 
elements  of  exact  demonstration,  the  means  to  dazzle  and  be- 
wilder. 

Toward  the  latter  end  of  1719  the  Mississippi  scheme  had 
reached  its  highest  point  of  glory.  Half  a  million  of  strangei'S 
had  crowded  into  Paris,  in  quest  of  fortune.    The  hotels  and 


THE  GREAT  MISSIS^PPI  BUBBLE. 


5'7 


iodging-liouses  wore  overflowing;  lodgings  were  procured  wit. 
excessive  difficulty;  granaries  were  turned  into  bed-rooms; 
provisions  had  risen  enormously  in  price;  splendid  houses 
were  multiplying  on  every  side ;  the  streets  were  crowded  with 
carriages ;  above  a  thousand  new  equipages  had  been  launched. 

On  the  eleventh  of  December,  Law  obtained  another  prolii.bi- 
tory  decree,  for  the  purpose  of  sweeping  all  the  remaining 
specie  in  circulation  into  the  bank.  By  this  it  was  forbidden 
to  make  any  payment  in  silver  above  ten  livres,  or  in  golc' 
above  three  hundred. 

The  repeated  decrees  of  tliis  nature,  the  object  of  which  Avas 
to  depreciate  the  value  of  gold,  and  increase  the  illusive  credit 
of  paper,  began  to  av/al^en  doubts  of  a  system  wliich  required 
such  bolstering.  Capitalists  gradually  awoke  from  their  be- 
wilderment. Sound  and  able  financiers  consulted  together,  and 
agreed  to  make  common  cause  against  this  continual  expansion 
of  a  paper  system.  The  shares  of  the  bank  and  of  the  coinpany 
began  to  decline  in  value.  Wary  men  took  the  alarm,  and 
began  to  realize,  a  word  now  first  brought  into  use,  to  express 
the  conversion  of  ideal  property  into  something  real. 

The  Prince  of  Conti,  one  of  the  most  prominent  and  grasping 
of  the  Mississippi  lords,  was  the  first  to  give  a  blow  to  the 
credit  of  the  bank.  There  was  a  mixture  of  ingratitude  in  his 
conduct  that  characterized  the  venal  baseness  of  the  times. 
He  had  received  from  time  to  time  enormous  sums  from  Law, 
as  the  price  of  his  influence  and  patronage.  His  avarice  had 
increased  with  every  acquisition,  until  Law  was  compelled  to 
refuse  one  of  his  exactions.  In  revenge  the  prince  inmiediately 
sent  such  an  amount  of  paper  to  the  bank  to  be  cashed,  that  it 
required  four  wagons  to  bring  away  the  sflver,  and  he  had  the 
meanness  to  loll  out  of  the  window  of  his  hotel  and  jest  and 
exult  as  it  was  trundled  into  his  port  cochere. 

This  was  the  signal  for  other  drains  of  like  nature.  Tho 
English  and  Dutch  merchants,  who  had  purchased  a  great 
amount  of  bank  paper  at  low  prices,  cashed  them  at  the  bank, 
and  carried  the  money  out  of  the  country.  Other  strangers 
did  the  like,  thus  draining  the  kingdom  of  its  specie,  and  leav- 
ing paper  in  its  place. 

The  Eegent,  perceiving  these  symptoms  of  decay  in  the  sys- 
tem, sought  to  restore  it  to  public  confidence,  by  conferring 
marks  of  confidence  upon  its  author.  He  accordingly  resolved 
to  make  Law  Comptroller  General  of  the  Finances  of  France. 
There  wais  a  material  obstacle  in  his  way.    Law  was  a  Protes- 


58 


Tin:  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


tant,  and  the  Regent,  unscrupulous  as  he  was  himself,  did  not 
dare  publicly  to  outrage  the  severe  edicts  which  Louis  XIV., 
in  his  bigot  days,  had  fulminated  against  all  heretics.  Law 
soon  let  him  know  that  there  would  be  no  difficidty  on  that 
head.  He  was  ready  at  any  moment  to  abjure  his  rehgion  in 
the  way  of  business.  For  decency's  sake,  however,  it  was 
judged  proper  he  should  previously  be  convinced  and  con- 
verted. A  ghostly  instructor  was  soon  found,  ready  to  ac- 
complish his  conversion  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  This 
was  the  Abbe  Tencin,  a  profligate  creature  of  the  profligate 
Dubois,  and  hke  him  working  his  way  to  ecclesiastical  pro- 
motion and  temporal  wealth,  by  the  basest  means. 

Under  the  instructions  of  the  Abbe  Tencin,  Law  soon  mas- 
tered the  mysteries  and  dogmas  of  the  Cathohc  doctrme ;  and, 
after  a  brief  course  of  ghostly  training,  declared  himself 
thoroughly  convinced  and  converted.  To  avoid  the  sneers 
and  jests  of  the  Parisian  public,  the  ceremony  of  abjuration 
took  place  at  Melun.  Law  made  a  pious  present  of  one  hun- 
dred thousand  livres  to  the  Church  of  St.  Roque,  and  the  Abbe 
Tencin  was  rewarded  for  his  edifying  labors  by  sundry  shares 
and  bank  bills ;  which  he  shrewdly  took  care  to  convert  into 
cash,  having  as  little  faith  in  the  system  as  in  the  piety  of  his 
new  convert.  A  more  grave  and  moral  community  juight 
have  been  outraged  by  this  scandalous  farce ;  but  the  Parisians 
laughed  at  it  with  their  usual  levity,  and  contented  themselves 
with  making  it  the  subject  of  a  number  of  songs  and  epigrams. 

Law  now  being  orthodox  in  his  faith,  took  out  letters  of 
naturahzation,  and  having  thus  surmounted  the  mtervening 
obstacles,  was  elevated  by  the  Regent  to  the  post  of  Comp- 
troller General.  So  accustomed  had  the  community  become 
to  all  juggles  and  transmutations  in  this  hero  of  finance,  that 
no  one  seemed  shocked  or  astonished  at  his  sudden  elevation. 
On  the  contrary,  being  now  considered  perfectly  established  in 
place  and  power,  he  became  more  than  ever  the  object  of  venal, 
adoration.  Men  of  rank  and  dignity  thronged  his  antecham- 
ber, waiting  patiently  their  turn  for  an  audience;  and  titled 
dames  demeaned  themselves  to  take  the  front  seats  of  the 
carriages  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  as  if  they  had  been  riding 
with  princesses  of  the  royal  blood.  Law's  head  grew  giddy 
with  his  elevation,  and  he  began  to  aspire  after  aristocratical 
distinction.  There  was  to  be  a  court  ball,  at  which  several  of 
the  young  noblemen  were  to  dance  in  a  ballet  with  the  youth- 
fid  King.    Law  requested  that  his  son  might  be  admitted  into 


THE  QUE  AT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


59 


the  ballet,  and  the  Regent  consented.  The  young  scions  of 
nobility,  however,  were  indignant  and  scouted  the  ' '  intruding 
upstart."  Their  more  worldly  parents,  fearful  of  displeasing 
the  modern  Midas,  reprimanded  them  in  vain.  The  striplings 
had  not  yet  imbibed  the  passion  for  gain,  and  still  held  to  their 
high  blood.  The  son  of  the  banker  received  slights  and  annoy- 
ances on  all  sides,  and  the  public  applauded  them  for  their 
spirit.  A  fit  of  illness  came  opportunely  to  reheve  the  youth 
from  an  honor  which  would  have  cost  him  a  world  of  vexations 
and  affronts. 

In  February,  1720,  shortly  after  Law's  instalment  in  office,  a 
decree  came  out  uniting  the  bank  to  the  India  Company,  by 
which  last  name  the  whole  establishment  was  now  known. 
The  decree  stated  that  as  the  bank  was  royal,  the  King  was 
bound  to  make  good  the  value  of  its  bills ;  that  he  committed 
to  the  company  the  government  of  the  bank  for  fifty  years, 
and  sold  to  it  fifty  millions  of  stock  belonging  to  him,  for  nine 
hundred  millions;  a  simple  advance  of  eighteen  hundred  per 
cent.  The  decree  farther  declared,  in  the  King's  name,  that 
he  would  never  draw  on  the  bank,  until  the  value  of  his  drafts 
had  first  been  lodged  in  it  by  his  receivers  general. 

The  bank,  it  was  said,  had  by  this  time  issued  notes  to  the 
amount  of  one  thousand  millions ;  being  more  paper  than  all 
the  banks  of  Europe  were  able  to  circulate.  To  aid  its  credit, 
the  receivers  of  the  revenue  were  directed  to  take  bank  notes 
of  the  sub-receivers.  All  payments,  also,  of  one  hundred  livres 
and  upward  were  ordered  to  be  made  in  bank  notes.  These 
compulsory  measures  for  a  short  time  gave  a  false  credit  to  the 
bank,  which  proceeded  to  discount  merchants'  notes,  to  lend 
money  on  jewels,  plate,  and  other  valuables,  as  well  as  on 
mortgages. 

Still  farther  to  force  on  the  system  an  edict  next  appeared, 
forbidding  any  individual,  or  any  corporate  body,  civil  or 
religious,  to  hold  in  possession  more  than  five  hundred  hvres 
in  current  coin;  that  is  to  say,  about  seven  louis-d'ors;  the 
value  of  the  louis-d'or  in  paper  being,  at  the  time,  seventy-two 
livres.  AH  the  gold  and  silver  they  might  have  above  this 
pittance  was  to  be  brought  to  the  royal  bank,  and  exchanged 
either  for  shares  or  biUs. 

As  confiscation  was  the  penalty  of  disobedience  to  this 
decree,  and  informers  were  assured  a  share  of  the  forfeitures, 
a  bounty  was  in  a  manner  held  out  to  domestic  spies  and 
traitors ;  and  the  most  odious  scrutiny  was  awakened  iato  the 


60 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


pecuniary  affairs  of  families  and  individuals.  The  very  confi- 
dence between  friends  and  relatives  was  impaired,  and  all  the 
domestic  ties  and  virtues  of  society  were  threatened,  until  a 
general  sentiment  of  indignation  broke  forth,  that  compelled 
the  Regent  to  rescind  the  odious  decree.  Lord  Stairs,  the 
British  ambassador,  speaking  of  the  system  of  espionage  en- 
couraged by  this  edict,  observed  that  it  was  impossible  to 
doubt  tliat  Law  was  a  thorough  Catholic,  since  ho  had  thus 
established  the  imjuisition,  after  having  already  proved  traii- 
siibstantiation,  by  changing  specie  into  paper. 

Equal  abuses  had  taken  place  under  the  colonizing  project. 
In  his  thousand  expedients  to  amass  capital.  Law  had  sold 
parcels  of  land  in  Mississippi,  at  the  rate  of  three  thousand  livres 
for  a  league  square.  Many  capitalists  had  purchased,  estates 
large  enough  to  constitute  almost  a  principality ;  the  only  evil 
was,  Law  had  sold  a  property  which  he  could  not  deliver. 
The  agents  of  police,  who  aided  in  recruiting  the  ranks  of  the 
colonists,  had  been  guilty  of  scandalous  impositions.  Under 
pretence  of  taking  up  mendicants  and  vagabonds,  they  had 
scoured  the  streets  at  night,  seizing  upon  honest  mechanics,  or 
their  sons,  and  hurrying  them  to  their  crimping-houses,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  extorting  money  from  them  as  a  ransom. 
The  populace  vs^as  roused  to  indignation  by  these  abuses.  The 
officers  of  police  were  mobbed  in  the  exercise  of  their  odious 
functions,  and  several  of  them  were  killed ;  which  put  an  end 
to  this  flagrant  abuse  of  power. 

In  March,  a  most  extraordinary  decree  of  the  council  fixed 
the  price  of  shares  of  the  India  Company  at  nine  thousand 
livres  each.  All  ecclesiastical  communities  and  hospitals  were 
now  prohibited  from  investing  money  at  interest,  in  anything 
but  India  stock.  With  all  these  props  and  stays,  the  system 
continued  to  totter.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  under  a  des- 
potic government,  that  coidd  alter  the  value  of  property  at 
every  moment?  The  very  compulsory  measures  that  were 
adopted  to  establish  the  credit  of  the  bank  hastened  its  fall; 
plainly  showing  there  was  a  want  of  solid  security.  Law 
caused  pamphlets  to  be  published,  setting  forth,  in  eloquent 
language,  the  vast  profits  that  must  accrue  to  holders  of 
the  stock,  and  the  impossibility  of  the  King's  ever  doing  it  any 
harm.  On  the  very  back  of  these  assertions  came  forth  an 
edict  of  the  King,  dated  the  22d  of  May,  ^>>erein,  under  pre- 
tence of  having  reduced  the  value  of  hi  coin,  it  iva;?  declared 
necessary  to  reduce  the  value  of  his  ba:ik  notes  ont;  half,  and 


TIIK  GUI': AT  MWSllSSIPri  nUBBLIi:. 


61 


of  the  India  shares  from  nine  thousand  to  five  thousand 
livres. 

This  decree  came  Hke  a  clap  of  thunder  upon  shareholders. 
They  found  one  half  of  the  pretended  value  of  the  paper  in 
their  hands  annihilated  in  an  instant ;  and  what  certainty  had 
they  with  respect  to  the  otlier  half  ?  The  rich  considered  them- 
selves ruined ;  those  in  humbler  circumstances  looked  lorward 
to  abject  beggary. 

The  parliament  seized  the  occasion  to  stand  forth  as  the 
protector  of  the  public,  and  refused  to  register  the  decree.  It 
gained  the  credit  of  compelling  the  Regent  to  retrace  his  step, 
though  it  is  niore  probable  he  yielded  to  the  universal  burst  of 
public  astonislmient  and  reprobation.  On  the  27th  of  May  the 
edict  was  revoked,  and  bank-bills  were  restored  to  their  pre- 
vious value.  But  the  fatal  blow  had  been  struck ;  the  delusion 
was  at  an  end.  Government  itself  had  lost  aU  public  confi- 
dence, equally  with  the  bank  it  had  engendered,  and  wliich  its 
own  arbitrary  acts  had  brought  into  discredit.  "All  Paris," 
says  the  Regent's  mother,  in  her  letters,  ' '  has  been  mourning 
at  the  cursed  decree  which  Law"  has  persuaded  my  son  to 
make.  I  have  received  anonymous  letters,  stating  that  I  have 
nothing  to  fear  on  my  own  account,  but  that  my  son  shall  be 
pursued  with  fire  and  sword." 

The  Regent  now  endeavored  to  avert  the  odium  of  his  ruin- 
ous schemes  from  himself.  He  affected  to  have  suddenly  lost 
confidence  in  Law,  and  on  the  29th  of  May,  discharged  him 
from  his  employ  as  Comptroller  General,  and  stationed  a  Swdss 
guard  of  sixteen  men  in  his  house.  He  even  refused  to  see 
him,  when,  on  the  follov^^ing  day,  he  applied  at  the  portal  of 
the  Palais  Royal  for  admission:  but  having  played  off  this 
farce  before  the  public,  he  admitted  Mm  secretly  the  same 
night,  by  a  private  door,  and  continued  as  before  to  co-operate 
with  him  in  his  financial  schemes. 

On  the  first  of  June,  the  Regent  issued  a  decree,  permitting 
persons  to  have  as  much  money  as  they  pleased  in  their  pos- 
session. Few,  however,  were  in  a  state  to  benefit  by  this 
permission.  There  was  a  run  upon  the  bank,  but  a  royal 
ordinance  immediately  suspended  payment,  until  farther  or- 
ders. To  relieve  the  public  mind,  a  city  stock  was  created,  of 
twenty-five  milHons,  bearing  an  interest  of  two  and  a  half  per 
cent,  for  which  bank  notes  were  taken  in  exchange.  The  bank 
notes  thus  withdrawn  from  circulation,  were  publicly  burned 
before  the  Hotel  de  Ville.    The  pubUc,  however,  had  lost  con- 


62 


THE  CRAYON  rAPKUS. 


fidence  in  everything  and  everybody,  and  suspected  fraud  and 
collusion  in  those  who  pretended  to  burn  the  bills. 

A  general  confusion  now  took  place  in  the  financial  world. 
FamiUes  who  had  lived  in  opulence,  found  themselves  sud- 
denly reduced  to  indigence.  Schemers  who  had  been  revelling 
in  the  delusion  of  princely  fortune,  found  their  estates  vanish- 
ing into  thin  air.  Those  Avho  had  any  property  remaining, 
sought  to  secure  it  against  reverses.  Cautious  persons  found 
there  was  no  safety  for  property  in  a  country  where  the  coin 
was  continually  sliifting  in  value,  and  v^dlere  a  despotism  was 
exercised  over  public  securities,  and  even  over  the  private 
purses  of  individuals.  They  began  to  send  their  effects  into 
other  countries;  when  lo!  on  the  20th  of  June  a  royal  edict 
commanded  them  to  bring  back  their  effects,  under  penalty  of 
foi'f citing  twice  their  value ;  and  forbade  them,  under  like  pen- 
alty, from  investing  their  money  in  foreign  stocks.  This  was 
soon  followed  by  another  decree,  forbidding  any  one  to  retain 
precious  stones  in  his  possession,  or  to  sell  them  to  foreigners ; 
all  must  be  deposited  in  the  bank,  in  exchange  for  depreciating 
paper ! 

Execrations  were  now  poured  out  on  all  sides,  against  Law, 
and  menaces  of  vengeance.  Y7hat  a  contrast,  in  a  short  time, 
to  the  venal  incense  that  was  offered  up  to  him!  "Tliis  per- 
son," writes  the  Eegent's  mother,  "who  was  formerly  wor- 
shipped as  a  god,  is  now  not  sure  of  his  life.  It  is  astonishing 
how  greatly  terrified  he  is.  He  is  as  a  dead  man ;  he  is  pale  as 
a  sheet,  and  it  is  said  he  can  never  get  over  it.  My  son  is 
not  dismayed,  though  he  is  threatened  on  all  sides ;  and  is  very 
much  amused  with  Law's  terrors." 

About  the  middle  of  July  the  last  grand  attempt  was  made 
by  Law  and  the  Regent,  to  keep  up  the  system,  and  provide 
for  the  immense  emission  of  paper.  A  decree  was  fabricated, 
giving  the  India  Company  the  entire  monopoly  of  commerce, 
on  condition  that  it  would,  in  the  coiu-se  of  a  year,  remiburse 
six  hundred  millions  of  livres  of  its  bills,  at  the  rate  of  fifty 
millions  per  month. 

On  the  17th  this  decree  was  sent  to  parliament  to  be  regis- 
tered. It  at  once  raised  a  storm  of  opposition  in  that  assembly ; 
and  a  vehement  discussion  took  place.  While  that  was  going 
on,  a  disastrous  scene  was  passin^r  out  of  doors. 

The  calamitous  effects  of  the  system  had  reached  the  hum- 
blest concerns  of  human  life.  Provisions  had  risen  to  an 
enormous  price ;  paper  money  was  refused  at  aU  the  shops ;  the 


THE  GittJAT  iMisiiJs.sjrpi  nunnijc. 


OS 


people  had  not  wherewithal  to  buy  bread.  It  had  been  found 
absolutely  indispensable  to  relax  a  little  Irom  the  suspension  of 
specie  payments,  and  to  allow  small  sums  to  be  scantily  ex- 
changed for  paper.  The  doors  of  the  bank  and  the  neighboring 
streets  were  immediately  tin-oiiged  with  a  famishing  multitude, 
seeking  cash  for  bank-notes  of  ten  hvres.  So  great  was  the 
press  and  struggle  that  several  persons  were  stifled  and 
crushed  to  death.  The  mob  carried  three  of  the  bodies  to  the 
court-yard  of  the  Palais  iioyal.  Some  cried  for  the  Eegcut  to 
come  forth  and  behold  the  elfect  of  his  system;  others  de- 
manded the  death  of  Law,  the  impostor,  who  had  brought  this 
misery  and  ruin  upon  the  nation. 

The  moment  was  critical,  the  popular  fury  was  rising  to  a 
tempest,  when  Le  Blanc,  the  Secretary  of  State,  stepped  forth. 
He  had  previously  sent  for  the  military,  and  now  only  sought 
to  gain  time.  Singling  out  six  or  seven  stout  fellows,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  ringleaders  of  the  mob:  "My  good  fellows," 
said  he,  calmly,  "carry  away  these  bodies  and  place  them  in 
some  church,  and  then  come  back  quickly  to  me  for  your  pay." 
They  immediately  obeyed;  a  kind  of  funeral  procession  was 
formed;  the  arrival  of  troops  dispersed  those  who  hngered 
behind ;  and  Paris  was  probably  saved  from  an  insurrection. 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  all  being  quiet,  Law  ven- 
tured to  go  in  his  carriage  to  the  Palais  Eoyal.  He  was 
saluted  with  cries  and  curses,  as  he  passed  along  the  streets ; 
and  he  reached  the  Palais  Eoyal  in  a  terrible  fright.  The 
Eegent  amused  himself  with  his  fears,  but  retained  him  "vvlth 
him.  and  sent  off  his  carriage,  which  was  assailed  by  the  mob, 
pelted  vnih.  stones,  and  the  glasses  shivered.  The  news  of  this 
outrage  was  communicated  to  parliament  in  the  midst  of  a 
furious  discussion  of  the  decree  for  the  commercial  monopoly. 
The  first  president,  who  had  been  absent  for  a  short  time,  re- 
entered, and  communicated  the  tidings  in  a  whimsical  couplet : 

"  Messieurs,  Messieurs!  bonne  nouvelle ! 
Le  carrosse  de  Law  est  reduite  en  carrelle !" 

"Gentlemen.  Gentlemen!  jrnnd  news! 
The  carriage  of  Law  is  shivered  to  atoms!" 

The  members  sprang  up  with  joy;  "And  Law!"  exclaimed 
they,  "has  he  been  torn  to  pieces?"  Tlie  president  was  igno- 
rant of  the  result  of  the  tiunult :  whereupon  the  debate  was 
cut  short,  the  decree  rejected,  and  the  house  adjourned;  the 
members  hurrviue'  to  lenrn  the  pnrticTilRi*s.     Such  was  the 


64 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


levity  with  which  pubhc  affairs  were  treated  at  that  dissohite 
and  disastrous  period. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  an  ordinance  from  the  king, 
prohibiting  all  popular  assemblages ;  and  troops  were  stationed 
at  various  points,  and  in  all  public  places.  The  regiment  of 
guards  was  ordered  to  hold  itself  in  readiness ;  and  the  musque- 
teers  to  be  at  their  hotels,  with  their  horses  ready  saddled.  A 
number  of  small  offices  were  opened,  where  people  might  cash 
small  notes,  though  with  great  delay  and  difficulty.  An  edict 
was  also  issued  declaring  that  whoever  should  refuse  to  take 
bank-notes  in  the  course  of  trade  should  forfeit  double  the 
amount ! 

The  continued  and  vehement  opposition  of  parliament  to  the 
whole  delusive  system  of  finance,  had  been  a  constant  soiu-ce 
of  annoyance  to  the  Regent;  but  this  obstinate  rejection  of  his 
last  grand  expedient  of  a  commercial  monopoly,  was  not  to  be 
tolerated.  He  determined  to  punish  that  intractable  body. 
The  Abbe  Dubois  and  Law  suggested  a  simple  mode ;  it  was  to 
suppress  the  parliament  altogether,  being,  as  they  observed,  so 
far  from  useful,  that  it  was  a  constant  imj^ediment  to  the 
march  of  public  affairs.  The  Ecgent  was  half  inclined  to  listen 
to  theii'  advice ;  but  uj^on  calmer  consideration,  and  the  advice 
of  friends,  he  adopted  a  more  moderate  course.  On  the  20th 
of  July,  early  in  the  morning,  all  the  doors  of  the  parliament- 
house  were  taken  possession  of  by  troops.  Others  were  sent  to 
surround  the  house  of  the  first  president,  and  others  to  the 
houses  of  the  various  members ;  who  were  all  at  first  in  great 
alarm,  until  an  order  from  the  king  was  put  into  tlieu'  hands, 
to  render  themselves  at  Pontoise,  in  the  course  of  two  days,  to 
which  place  the  parhament  was  thus  suddenly  and  arbitrarily 
transferred. 

This  despotic  act,  says  Voltaire,  would  at  any  other  time 
have  caused  an  insurrection;  but  one  lialf  of  the  Parisians 
*  .vere  occupied  by  their  ruin,  and  the  other  half  by  then-  fancied 
riches,  which  were  soon  to  vanish.  Tlie  president  and  mem- 
bers of  parliament  acquiesced  in  the  mandate  without  a  mur- 
mur ;  they  even  went  as  if  on  a  party  of  pleasure,  and  made 
every  preparation  to  lead  a  joyous  life  in  their  exile.  The 
nmsqueteers,  who  held  possession  of  the  vacated  pcirliament- 
house,  a  gay  corps  of  fashionable  young  fellows,  amused  them- 
selves with  making  songs  and  pasquinades,  at  the  exj^ense  of 
the  exiled  legislators ;  and  at  length,  to  pass  away  time,  formed 
themselves  into  a  mock  parliament;  elected  their  presidents, 


THE  GliEAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE. 


65 


kings,  ministers,  and  advocates ;  took  their  seats  in  due  form, 
arraigned  a  cat  at  their  bar,  in  place  of  the  Sieur  Law,  and  after 
giving  it  a  ''fair  trial,"  condemned  it  to  be  lianged.  In  this 
manner  public  aifairs  and  public  institutions  were  lightly 
turned  to  jest. 

As  to  the  exiled  parliament,  it  Uved  gayly  and  luxuriously  at 
Pontoise,  at  the  public  expense ;  for  the  Regent  had  furnished 
'  funds,  a  J  usual,  with  a  lavish  hand.  The  first  president  had 
the  mansion  of  the  Duke  de  Bouillon  put  at  his  disposal,  ready 
furnished,  with  a  vast  and  delightful  garden  on  the  borders  of 
a  river.  There  he  kept  open  house  to  all  the  members  of  par- 
liament. Several  tables  were  spread  every  day,  all  furnished 
luxuriously  and  splendidly;  the  most  exquisite  wines  and 
liqueurs,  the  choicest  fruits  and  refreshments,  of  all  kinds, 
abounded.  A  number  of  small  chariots  for  one  and  two  horses 
were  always  at  hand,  for  such  ladies  and  old  gentlemen  as 
wished  to  take  an  airing  after  dinner,  and  card  and  bilhard 
tables  for  such  as  chose  to  amuse  themselves  in  that  way  mitil 
supper.  The  sister  and  the  daughter  of  the  first  president  did 
the  honors  of  the  house,  and  he  hunseli  presided  there  with  an 
air  of  great  ease,  hospitality,  and  magnificence.  It  became  a 
party  of  pleasure  to  drive  from  Paris  to  Pontoise,  which  was 
six  leagues  distant,  and  partake  of  the  amusements  and  festivi- 
ties of  the  place.  Business  was  openly  slighted ;  nothing  was 
thought  of  but  amusement.  The  Regent  and  his  government 
were  laughed  at,  and  made  the  subjects  of  continual  pleasant- 
ries ;  while  the  enormous  expenses  incurred  by  this  idle  and 
lavish  course  of  life,  more  than  doubled  the  hberal  sums  pro- 
vided. This  was  the  way  in  which  the  parliament  resented 
their  exile. 

During  aU  this  time,  the  system  was  getting  more  and  more 
involved.  The  stock  exchange  had  some  time  pre\dously  been 
removed  to  the  Place  Vendome ;  but  the  tumult  and  noise  be- 
coming intolerable  to  the  residents  of  that  polite  quarter,  and 
especially  to  the  chancellor,  whose  hotel  was  there,  the  Prince 
and  Princess  Carignan,  both  deep  gamblers  in  Mississippi 
stock,  offered  the  extensive  garden  of  the  Hotel  de  Soissons 
as  a  rally ing-place  for  the  worshippers  of  Mammon.  The  offer 
was  accepted.  A  number  of  barracks  were  inmiediately 
erected  in  the  garden,  as  offices  for  the  stock-brokers,  and  an 
order  was  obtained  from  the  Regent,  under  pretext  of  police 
regulations,  that  no  bargain  should  be  vahd  unless  concluded 
in  these  barracks.    The  rent  of  tbrju  immediately  mounted  to 


60 


THE  CllAYON  PArEiiS. 


a  hundred  livres  a  month  for  each,  and  the  whole  yielded  these 
noble  proprietors  an  ignoble  revenue  of  half  a  million  of  hvres. 

The  mania  for  gain,  however,  was  now  at  an  end.  A  mii- 
versal  panic  succeeded.  l^aiive  qui  pent  was  the  watch- 
word. Every  one  was  anxious  to  exchange  falling  paper  for 
somethmg  of  intrmsic  and  permanent  value.  hUnce  money 
was  not  to  be  had,  jewels,  precious  stones,  plate,  porcelain, 
trinkets  of  gold  and  silver,  all  commanded  any  price  in  papei-. 
Land  was  bouglit  at  fifty  years'  purchase,  and  he  esteemed 
himself  happy  who  could  get  it  even  at  tliis  price.  Monopolies 
now  became  the  rage  among  the  noble  holders  of  paper.  The 
Duke  de  la  Force  bought  up  nearly  all  the  tallow,  grease,  and 
soap ;  others  the  coffee  and  spices ;  others  hay  and  oats.  For- 
eign exchanges  were  almost  impracticable.  The  debts  of 
Dutch  and  English  merchants  w^ere  paid  m  this  fictitious 
money,  all  the  coin  of  the  realm  havmg  disappeared.  All  the 
relations  of  debtor  and  creditor  were  confounded.  With  one 
thousand  crowns  one  might  pay  a  debt  of  eighteen  thousand 
livres ! 

The  Regent's  mother,  who  once  exulted  in  the  affluence  of 
bank  paper,  now  wrote  in  a  very  different  tone :  "I  have 
often  wished,"  said  she  in  her  letters,  "that  these  bank 
notes  were  in  the  depts  of  the  infernal  regions.  They  have 
given  my  son  more  trouble  than  relief.  Nobody  in  France 
has  a  penny.  *  ^-  My  son  was  once  popular,  but  since  the  ar- 
rival of  this  cursed  Law,  he  is  hated  more  and  more.  Not  a 
week  passes,  without  my  receiving  letters  filled  with  fright- 
ful threats,  and  speaking  of  hmi  as  a  tyrant.  I  have  just 
received  one  threatening  him  with  poison.  When  I  showed 
it  to  him,  he  did  nothing  but  laugh. " 

In  the  meantime.  Law  was  dismayed  by  the  increasing 
troubles,  and  terrified  at  the  tempest  he  had  raised.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  real  courage;  and  fearing  for  his  personal 
safety,  from  popular  tumult,  or  the  despair  of  ruined  indi- 
viduals, he  again  took  refuge  in  the  palace  of  the  Regent. 
The  latter,  as  usual,  amused  himself  with  his  terrors,  and 
turned  every  new  disaster  into  a  jest;  but  he  too  began  to 
think  of  his  own  security. 

In  pursuing  the  schemes  of  Ijaw,  he  had  no  doubt  cal- 
culated to  carry  through  his  term  of  government  with  ease 
and  splendor;  and  to  enrich  himself,  his  connexions,  and  his 
favorites;  and  had  hoped  that  the  catasUoxjhe  of  the  system 
would  not  take  place  until  jifter  the  expiration  of  the  regency. 


TIIK  GREAT  jMISSISSim  BUBBLE. 


67 


He  now  saw  his  mistake;  that  it  was  impossible  much 
longer  to  prevent  an  explosion;  and  he  determined  at  once 
to  get  Law  out  oi  the  way,  and  than  to  charge  him  with 
the  whole  tissue  of  delusions  of  this  paper  alchemy.  He  ac- 
cordingly took  occasion  of  the  recall  of  parliament  in  De- 
cember, 1720,  to  suggest  to  Law  the  policy  of  his  avoiding 
an  encounter  with  that  hostile  and  exasperated  body.  Law 
needed  no  urging  to  the  measure.  His  only  desire  was  to 
escape  from  Paris  and  its  tempestuous  populace.  Two  days  be- 
fore the  return  of  parliament  he  took  his  sudden  and  secret 
departure.  He  travelled  in  a  chaise  bearing  the  arms  of  the 
Regent,  and  was  escoi'ted  by  a  kind  of  safeguard  of  sei-vants, 
in  the  duke's  livery.  His  first  place  of  refuge  was  an  estate 
of  the  Regent's,  about  six  leagues  from  Paris,  from  whence  he 
pushed  forward  to  Bruxelles. 

As  soon  as  Law  was  fairly  out  of  the  way,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  summoned  a  council  of  the  regency,  and  informed 
them  that  they  were  assembled  to  deliberate  on  the  state  of 
the  finances,  and  the  affairs  of  the  India  Company.  Accord- 
ingly La  Houssaye,  Comptroller  General,  rendered  a  perfectly 
clear  statement,  by  which  it  appeared  that  there  were  bank 
bills  in  circidation  to  the  amount  of  two  miUiards,  seven 
hundred  millions  of  livres,  without  any  evidence  that  this 
enormous  sum  had  been  emitted  in  virtue  of  any  ordinance 
from  the  general  assembly  of  the  India  Company,  which  alone 
had  the  right  to  authorize  such  emissions. 

The  council  was  astonished  at  tliis  disclosure,  and  looked 
to  the  Regent  for  explanation.  Pushed  to  the  extreme,  the 
Regent  avowed  that  Law  had  emitted  biUs  to  the  amount  of 
twelve  hundred  millions  beyond  what  had  been  fixed  by  or- 
dinances, and  in  contradiction  to  express  prohibitions;  that 
the  thing  being  done,  he,  the  Regent,  had  legalized  or  rather 
covered  the  transaction,  by  decrees  ordering  such  emissions, 
which  decrees  he  had  antedated. 

A  stormy  scene  ensued  between  the  Regent  and  the  Duke 
de  Bourbon,  Uttle  to  the  credit  of  either,  both  having  been 
deeply  imphcated  in  the  cabalistic  operations  of  the  system. 
In  fact,  the  several  members  of  the  council  had  been  among 
the  most  venal  "beneficiaries"  of  the  scheme,  and  had  inter- 
ests at  stake  wliich  they  were  anxious  to  secure.  From  all 
the  circmnstances  of  the  case,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
others  were  more  to  blame  than  Law,  for  the  disastrous  effects 
of  his  fuiancial  projects.    His  bank,  had  it  been  confined  to 


68 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


its  original  limits,  and  left  to  the  control  of  its  own  inter- 
nal regulations,  might  have  gone  on  prosperously,  and  been 
of  great  benefit  to  the  nation.  It  was  an  institution  fitted 
for  a  free  country;  but  unfortunately  it  was  subjected  to 
the  control  of  a  despotic  government,  that  could,  at  its  pleas- 
ure, alter  the  value  of  the  specie  within  its  vaults,  and  com- 
pel the  most  extravagant  expansions  of  its  paper  circulation. 
The  vital  prmciple  of  a  bank  is  security  in  the  regularity  of 
its  operations,  and  the  immediate  convertibility  of  its  paper 
into  coin;  and  what  confidence  could  be  reposed  in  an  insti- 
tution or  its  paper  promises,  when  the  sovereign  could  at 
any  moment  centuple  those  promises  in  the  market,  and  seize 
upon  all  the  money  in  the  bank?  The  compulsory  measures 
used,  likewise,  to  force  bank  notes  into  currency,  against  the 
judgment  of  the  public,  was  fatal  to  the  system;  for  credit 
must  be  free  and  uncontrolled  as  the  common  air.  The  Re- 
gent was  the  evil  spirit  of  the  system,  that  forced  Law  on  to 
an  expansion  of  his  paper  curency  far  beyond  what  he  had 
ever  dreamed  of.  He  it  was  that  in  a  manner  compelled  the 
unlucky  projector  to  devise  all  kinds  of  collateral  companies 
and  monopohes,  by  which  to  raise  funds  to  meet  the  con- 
stantly and  enormously  increasing  emissions  of  shares  and 
notes.  Law  was  but  like  a  poor  conjuror  in  the  hands  of  a 
potent  spirit  that  he  has  evoked,  and  that  obliges  him  to  go 
on,  desperately  and  ruinously,  with  his  conjurations.  He  only 
thought  at  the  outset  to  raise  the  wind,  but  the  Regent  com- 
pelled him  to  raise  the  wliirl^dnd. 

The  investigation  of  the  affairs  of  the  Company  by  the 
council,  resnliecl  in  nothing  beneficial  to  the  public.  The 
princes  and  nobles  who  had  enriched  themselves  by  all  kinds 
of  juggles  and  extortions,  escaped  unpunished,  and  retained 
the  greater  part  of  their  spoils.  Many  of  the  "suddenly 
rich,"  Avho  had  risen  from  obscurity  to  a  giddy  height  of 
imaginary  prosperity,  and  had  indulged  in  all  kinds  of  vul- 
gar and  ridiculous  excesses,  awoke  as  out  of  a  dream,  in  their 
original  poverty,  now  made  more  galling  and  humihating  by 
their  transient  elevation. 

The  weight  of  the  evil,  however,  fell  on  more  valuable  classes 
of  society;  honest  tradesmen  and  artisans,  who  had  been 
seduced  away  from  the  safe  pursuits  of  industry,  to  the 
specious  chances  of  speculation.  Thousands  of  meritorious 
families  also,  once  opulent,  had  been  reduced  to  indigence, 
by  a  too  gi^eat  confidence  in  government.    There  was  a  gen- 


THE  GREAT  MlSSISSim  BUBBLE. 


69 


eral  derangement  in  the  finances,  that  long  exerted  a  bane- 
ful influence  over  the  national  prosperity;  but  the  most  dis- 
astrous effects  of  the  system  were  upon  the  morals  and  man- 
ners of  the  nation.  The  faith  of  engagements,  the  sanctity 
of  promises  in  affairs  of  business,  were  at  an  end.  Every 
expedient  to  grasp  present  profit,  or  to  evade  present  difficulty, 
was  tolerated.  While  such  deplorable  laxity  of  principle  was 
generated  in  the  busy  classes,  the  chivalry  of  France  had 
soiled  their  pennons ;  and  honor  and  glory,  so  long  the  idols  of 
the  GaUic  nobility,  had  been  tumbled  to  the  earth,  and  tram- 
pled in  the  dirt  of  the  stock-market. 

As  to  Law,  the  originator  of  the  system,  he  appears  even- 
tually to  have  profited  but  httle  by  his  schemes.  "He was  a 
quack,"  says  Voltaire,  "to  whom  the  state  was  given  to  be 
cured,  but  who  poisoned  it  with  his  drugs,  and  who  poisoned 
himself."  The  effects  wliich  he  left  beliind  in  France,  were 
sold  at  a  low  price,  and  the  proceeds  dissipated.  His  landed 
estates  were  confiscated.  He  carried  away  with  him  barely 
enough  to  maintain  himself,  his  wife,  and  daughter,  with  de- 
cency. The  chief  rehque  of  his  immense  fortune  was  a  great 
diamond,  which  he  was  often  obliged  to  pawn.  He  was  in 
England  in  1721,  and  was  presented  to  George  the  First.  He 
returned  shortly  afterwards  to  the  continent;  shifting  about 
from  place  to  place,  and  died  in  Venice,  in  1729.  His  wife  and 
daughter,  accustomed  to  live  with  the  prodigality  of  ]Drincesses, 
could  not  conform  to  their  altered  fortunes,  but  dissipated  the 
scanty  means  left  to  them,  and  sank  into  abject  poverty.  "I 
saw  liis  wife,"  says  Voltaire,  "at  Bruxelles,  as  much  humili- 
ated as  she  had  been  haughty  and  triumphant  in  Paris. "  An 
elder  brother  of  Law  remained  in  France,  and  was  protected 
by  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon.  His  descendants  have  acquitted 
themselves  honorably,  in  various  public  employments;  and 
one  of  them  is  the  Marquis  Lauriston,  some  time  Lieutenant 
General  and  Peer  of  France. 


70 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


DON  JUAN. 
A  SPECTRAL  RESEARCH. 

"  I  have  heard  of  spirits  walking  with  aerial  bodies,  and  have  been  wondered  at 
by  others;  but  I  must  only  wonder  at  mj'self,  for  if  thej'  be  not  mad,  I'me  come  to 
my  own  buriall."— Shirley's  "  Witty  Fairie  One." 

Everybody  has  heard  of  the  fate  of  Don  Juan,  the  famous 
hbertine  of  Seville,  who  for  his  sins  against  the  fair  sex  and 
other  minor  peccadilloes  was  hurried  away  to  the  infernal 
regions.  His  story  has  been  illustrated  in  play,  in  pantomime, 
and  farce,  on  everj^  stage  in  Christendom ;  until  at  length  it  has 
been  rendered  the  theme  of  the  opera  of  operas,  and  embalmed 
to  endless  dm-ation  in  the  glorious  music  of  Mozart.  I  well 
recollect  the  effect  of  this  story  upon  my  feehngs  in  my  boyish 
days,  though  represented  in  grotesque  pantomime;  the  awe 
with  which  I  contemplated  the  monumental  statue  on  horse-  I 
back  of  the  murdered  commander,  gleaming  by  pale  moonlight 
in  the  convent  cemetery ;  how  my  heart  quaked  as  he  bowed 
his  marble  head,  and  accepted  the  impious  invitation  of  Don 
Juan :  how  each  foot-fall  of  the  statue  smote  upon  my  heart, 
as  I  heard  it  approach,  step  by  step,  thi'ough  the  echoing  cor- 
ridor, and  beheld  it  enter,  and  advance,  a  moving  figure  of 
stone,  to  the  supportable!  But  then  the  convivial  scene  in 
the  charnel-house,  where  Don  Juan  returned  the  visit  of  the 
statue;  was  offered  a  banquet  of  skulls  and  bones,  and  on 
refusing  to  partake,  was  hurled  into  a  yawning  gulf,  under  a 
tremendous  shower  of  fire !  These  were  accumulated  horrors 
enough  to  shake  the  nerves  of  the  most  pantomime-loving 
school-boy.  Many  have  supposed  the  story  of  Don  Juan  a 
mere  fable.  I  myself  thought  so  once;  but  "  seeing  is  behev- 
ing."  I  have  since  beheld  the  very  scene  where  it  took  place, 
and  now  to  indulge  any  doubt  on  the  subject  would  be  pre- 
posterous. 

I  was  one  night  perambulating  the  streets  of  Seville,  in  com- 
pany with  a  Spanish  friend,  a  curious  investigator  of  the  popu- 
lar traditions  and  other  good-for-nothing  lore  of  the  city,  and 
who  was  kind  enough  to  imagine  he  had  met,  in  me,  with  a 
congenial  spirit.  In  the  course  of  our  rambles  we  were  passing 
by  a  heavj^  dark  gateway,  opening  into  the  coiu-t-yard  of  a 
convent,  when  he  laid  his  hand  upon  my  arm:  "Stop!"  said 
he,  "this  is  the  convent  of  San  Francisco ;  there  is  a  story  cod- 


DON  JUAN. 


71 


nected  with  it,  which  I  am  sure  must  be  known  to  you.  You 
cannot  but  have  heard  of  Don  Juan  and  the  marble  statue. " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  rephed  I,  "it  has  been  famihar  to  me  from 
childhood." 

"Well,  then,  it  was  in  the  cemetery  of  this  very  convent 
that  the  events  took  place." 

"Why,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  story  is  founded  on 
fact?" 

' '  Undoubtedly  it  is.  The  circumstances  of  the  case  are  said 
to  have  occurred  during  the  reign  of  Alfonso  XI.  Don  Juan 
was  of  the  noble  family  of  Tenorio,  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
houses  of  Andalusia.  His  father,  Don  Diego  Tenorio,  was  a 
favorite  of  the  king,  and  his  family  ranked  among  the  deinte- 
cuatros,  or  magistrates,  of  the  city.  Presuming  on  his  high  de- 
scent and  powerful  connections,  Don  Juan  set  no  bounds  to  his 
excesses :  no  female,  high  or  low,  was  sacred  from  his  pursuit : 
and  he  soon  became  the  scandal  of  Seville.  One  of  his  most 
daring  outrages  was,  to  penetrate  by  night  into  the  palace  of 
Don  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa,  commander  of  the  order«of  Calatrava, 
and  attempt  to  carry  off  his  daughter.  The  household  was 
alarmed ;  a  scuffle  in  the  dark  took  place ;  Don  Juan  escaped, 
but  the  unfortunate  commander  was  found  weltering  in  his 
blood,  and  expired  without  being  able  to  name  his  murderer. 
Suspicions  attached  to  Don  Juan ;  he  did  not  stop  to  meet  the 
investigations  of  justice,  and  the  vengeance  of  the  powerful 
family  of  Ulloa,  but  fled  from  Seville,  and  took  refuge  with  his 
uncle,  Don  Pedro  Tenorio,  at  that  time  ambassador  at  the  court 
of  Naples.  Here  he  remained  until  the  agitation  occasioned  by 
the  murder  of  Don  Gonzalo  had  time  to  subside ;  and  the  scan- 
dal which  the  affair  might  cause  to  both  the  families  of  Ulloa 
and  Tenorio  had  induced  them  to  hush  it  up.  Don  Juan,  how- 
ever, continued  his  hbertine  career  at  Naples,  until  at  length 
his  excesses  forfeited  the  protection  of  his  uncle,  the  ambassa- 
dor, and  obliged  him  again  to  flee.  He  had  made  his  way  back 
to  Seville,  trusting  that  his  past  misdeeds  were  forgotten,  or 
rather  trusting  to  his  dare-devil  spirit  and  the  power  of  his 
family,  to  carry  him  through  all  difficulties. 

"It  was  shortly  after  his  return,  and  while  in  the  height  of 
his  arrogance,  that  on  visiting  this  very  convent  of  Francisco, 
he  beheld  on  a  monument  the  equestrian  statue  of  the  mur- 
dered commander,  who  had  been  buried  within  the  walls  of 
this  sacred  edifice,  where  the  family  of  Ulloa  had  a  chapel.  It 
was  on  this  occasion  that  Don  Juan,  in  a  moment  of  impious 


72 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


levity,  invited  the  statue  to  the  banquet,  the  awful  catastrophe 
of  which  has  given  such  celebrity  to  his  story." 

And  pray  how  much  of  this  story,"  said  I,  "is  beheved  in 
Seville?" 

" The  wliole  of  it  by  the  populace;  with  whom  it  has  been  a 
favorite  tradition  since  time  immemorial,  and  who  crowd  to 
the  theatres  to  see  it  represented  in  dramas  written  long  since 
by  Tyrso  de  Mohna,  and  another  of  our  popular  writers.  Many 
in  our  higher  ranks  also,  accustomed  from  childhood  to  this 
story,  would  feel  somewhat  indignant  at  hearing  it  treated  with 
contempt.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to  explain  the  whole, 
by  asserting  that,  to  put  an  end  to  the  extravagancies  of  Don 
Juan,  and  to  pacify  the  family  of  Ulloa,  without  exposing  the 
delinquent  to  the  degrading  penalties  of  justice,  he  was  decoyed 
into  this  convent  under  a  false  pretext,  and  either  plunged  into 
a  perpetual  dungeon,  or  privately  hurried  out  of  existence; 
while  the  story  of  the  statue  was  circulated  by  the  monks,  to 
account  for  his  sudden  disappearance.  The  populace,  how- 
ever, are  not  to  be  cajoled  out  of  a  ghost  story  by  any  of 
these  plausible  explanations;  and  the  marble  statue  still 
strides  the  stage,  and  Don  Juan  is  still  plunged  into  the  in- 
fernal regions,  as  an  awful  warning  to  all  rake-helly  young- 
sters, in  like  case  offending." 

While  my  companion  was  relating  these  anecdotes,  we  had 
entered  the  gate-way,  traversed  the  exterior  court-yard  of  the 
convent,  and  made  our  way  into  a  great  interior  court ;  partly 
surrounded  by  cloisters  and  dormitories,  partly  by  chapels, 
and  having  a  large  fountain  in  the  centre.  The  pile  had  evi- 
dently once  been  extensive  and  magnificent ;  but  it  was  for  the 
greater  part  in  ruins.  By  the  light  of  the  stars,  and  of  twink- 
ling lamps  placed  here  and  there  in  the  chapel  5  and  corridors, 
I  could  see  that  many  of  the  columns  and  arches  were  broken ; 
the  walls  were  rent  and  riven ;  while  burned  beams  and  rafters 
showed  the  destructive  effects  of  fire.  The  whole  place  had  a 
desolate  air ;  the  night  breeze  rustled  through  grass  and  weeds 
flaunting  out  of  the  crevices  of  the  walls,  or  from  the  shat- 
tered columns ;  the  bat  flitted  about  the  vaulted  passages,  and 
the  owl  hooted  from  the  ruined  belfry.  Never  was  any  scene 
more  completely  fitted  for  a  ghost  story. 

While  I  was  indulging  in  ]:»icturings  of  the  fancy,  proper  to 
such  a  place,  the  deep  chaunt  of  the  monks  from  the  convent 
church  came  swelling  upon  the  ear.  "  It  is  the  vesper  service, " 
said  my  companion ;  "follow  me." 


DON  JUAN. 


73 


Leading  the  way  across  the  court  of  the  cloisters,  and 
through  one  or  two  ruined  passages,  he  reached  the  distant 
portal  of  the  church,  and  pushing  open  a  wicket,  cut  in  the 
folding-doors,  we  found  ourselves  in  the  deep  arched  vestibule 
of  the  sacred  edifice.  To  our  left  was  the  choir,  forming  one 
end  of  the  church,  and  having  a  low  vaulted  ceiling,  which 
gave  it  the  look  of  a  cavern.  About  this  were  ranged  the 
monks,  seated  on  stools,  and  chaunting  from  immense  books 
placed  on  music-stands,  and  having  the  notes  scored  in  such 
gigantic  characters  as  to  be  legible  from  every  part  of  the  choir. 
A  few  lights  on  these  music-stands  dimly  illumined  the  choir, 
gieained  on  the  shaven  heads  of  the  monks,  and  threw  their 
shadows  on  the  walls.  They  were  gross,  blue-bearded,  bullet- 
headed  men,  with  bass  voices,  of  deep  metaUic  tone,  that  re- 
verberated out  of  the  cavernous  choir. 

To  our  right  extended  the  great  body  of  the  church.  It  was 
spacious  and  lofty ;  some  of  the  side  chapels  had  gilded  grates, 
and  were  decorated  with  images  and  paintings,  representing 
the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour.  Aloft  was  a  great  painting  by 
Murillo,  but  too  much  in  the  dark  to  be  distinguished.  The 
gloom  of  the  whole  church  was  but  faintly  relieved  by  the  re- 
flected light  from  the  choir,  and  the  glimmering  here  and  there 
of  a  votive  lamp  before  the  shrine  of  a  saint. 

As  my  eye  roamed  about  the  shadowy  pile,  it  was  struck 
with  the  dimly  seen  figure  of  a  man  on  horseback,  near  a  dis- 
tant altar.  I  touched  my  companion,  and  pointed  to  it:  "  The 
spectre  statue !"  said  I. 

"No,"  replied  he;  "  it  is  the  statue  of  the  blessed  St.  lago; 
the  statue  of  the  commander  was  in  the  cemetery  of  the  con- 
vent, and  was  destroyed  at  the  time  of  the  conflagration. 
But,"  added  he,  "as  I  see  you  take  a  proper  interest  in  these 
kind  of  stories,  come  with  me  to  the  other  end  of  the  church, 
where  our  whisperings  will  not  disturb  these  holy  fathers  at 
their  devotions,  and  I  will  tell  you  another  story,  that  has  been 
current  for  some  generations  in  our  city,  by  which  you  wUl 
find  that  Don  Juan  is  not  the  only  libertine  that  has  been  the 
object  of  supernatural  castigation  in  Seville." 

I  accordingly  followed  him  with  noiseless  tread  to  the  farther 
part  of  the  church,  where  we  took  our  seats  on  the  steps  of  an 
altar,  opposite  to  the  suspicious-looking  figure  on  horseback, 
and  there,  in  a  low,  mysterious  voice,  he  related  to  me  the  fol- 
lowing narrative : 

"There  was  once  in  Seville  a  gay  young  fellow,  Don  Manuel 


74 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


do  Manara  by  name,  who  having  come  to  a  great  estate  by  the 
death  of  his  father,  gave  the  reins  to  his  passions,  and  plunged 
into  all  kinds  of  dissipation.  Like  Don  Juan,  whom  he  seemed 
to  have  taken  for  a  model,  he  became  famous  for  his  enter- 
prises among  the  fair  sex,  and  was  the  cause  of  doors  being 
barred  and  windows  grated  with  more  than  usual  strictness. 
All  in  vain.  No  balcony  was  too  high  for  him  to  scale ;  no  bolt 
nor  bar  was  proof  against  his  efforts ;  and  his  very  name  was  a 
word  of  terror  to  all  the  jealous  husbands  and  cautious  fathers 
or  Seville.  His  exploits  extended  to  country  as  well  as  city ; 
and  in  the  village  dependent  on  his  castle,  scarce  a  rural  beauty 
was  safe  from  his  arts  and  enterprises. 

"As  he  was  one  day  ranging  the  streets  of  Seville,  with  sev 
eral  of  his  dissolute  companions,  he  beheld  a  procession  about 
to  enter  the  gate  of  a  convent.  In  the  centre  was  a  young  fe- 
male arrayed  in  the  dress  of  a  bride ;  it  was  a  novice,  who,  hav- 
ing accomplished  her  year  of  probation,  was  about  to  take  the 
black  veil,  and  consecrate  herself  to  heaven.  The  companions 
of  Don  Manuel  drew  back,  out  of  respect  to  the  sacred  pageant ; 
but  he  pressed  forward,  with  liis  usual  impetuosity,  to  gain  a 
near  view  of  the  novice.  He  almost  jostled  her,  in  passing 
thi'ough  the  portal  of  the  church,  when,  on  her  turning  round, 
he  beheld  the  countenance  of  a  beautiful  village  girl,  who  had 
been  the  object  of  his  ardent  pursuit,  but  who  had  been  spirited 
secretly  out  of  his  reach  by  her  relatives.  She  recognized  him 
at  the  same  moment,  and  fainted ;  but  was  borne  Avithin  the 
grate  of  the  chapel.  It  was  supposed  the  agitation  of  the  cere- 
mony and  the  heat  of  the  throng  had  overcome  her.  After 
some  time,  the  curtain  which  hung  within  the  grate  was  drawn 
up :  there  stood  the  novice,  pale  and  trembling,  surrounded  by 
the  abbess  and  the  nuns.  The  ceremony  proceeded ;  the  crown 
of  flowers  was  taken  from  her  head ;  she  was  shorn  of  her  silken 
tresses,  received  the  black  veil,  and  went  passively  through 
the  remainder  of  the  ceremony. 

"Don  Manuel  de  Manara,  on  the  contrary,  was  roused  to 
fury  at  the  sight  of  this  sacrifice.  His  passion,  whicn 
had  almost  faded  away  in  the  absence  of  the  object,  now 
glowed  with  tenfold  ardor,  being  inflamed  by  the  difficulties 
placed  in  his  way,  and  piqued  by  the  measures  which  had  been 
taken  to  defeat  him.  Never  had  the  object  of  his  pursuit  ap- 
peared so  lovely  and  desirable  as  when  witliin  the  grate  of  the 
convent ;  and  he  swore  to  have  her,  in  defiance  of  heaven  and 
earth.   By  dint  of  bribing  a  female  servant  of  the  convent  he 


DON  JUAN. 


75 


contrived  to  convey  letters  to  her,  pleading  his  passion  in  the 
most  eloquent  and  seductive  terms.  How  successful  they  were 
is  only  matter  of  conjecture ;  certain  it  is,  he  imdertook  one 
night  to  scale  the  garden  wall  of  the  convent,  either  to  carry 
off  the  nun,  or  gain  admission  to  her  cell.  Just  as  he  was 
mounting  the  wall  he  was  suddenly  plucked  back,  and  a 
stranger,  muffled  in  a  cloak,  stood  before  him. 

' ' '  Kash  man,  forbear ! '  cried  he :  'is  it  not  enough  to  have 
violated  all  human  ties?  Wouldst  thou  steal  a  bride  from 
heaven ! ' 

* '  The  sword  of  Don  Manuel  had  been  drawn  on  the  instant, 
and  furious  at  this  interruption,  he  passed  it  through  the  body 
of  the  stranger,  who  fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Hearing  approach- 
ing footsteps,  he  fled  the  fatal  spot,  and  mounting  his  horse, 
which  was  at  hand,  retreated  to  his  estate  in  the  country,  at  no 
great  distance  from  Seville.  Here  he  remained  throughout  the 
next  day,  full  of  horror  and  remorse ;  dreading  lest  he  should 
be  known  as  the  murderer  of  the  deceased,  and  fearing  each 
moment  the  arrival  of  the  officers  of  justice. 

' '  The  day  passed,  however,  without  molestation ;  and,  as  the 
evening  approached,  unable  any  longer  to  endure  this  state  of 
uncertainty  and  apprehension,  he  ventured  back  to  Seville. 
Irresistibly  his  footsteps  took  the  direction  of  the  convent ;  but 
he  paused  and  hovered  at  a  distance  from  the  scene  of  blood. 
Several  persons  were  gathered  round  the  place,  one  of  whom 
was  busy  nailing  something  against  the  convent  wall.  After  a 
while  they  dispersed,  and  one  passed  near  to  Don  Manuel.  The 
latter  addressed  him,  with  hesitating  voice. 

"  '  Senor,'  said  he,  '  may  I  ask  the  reason  of  yonder  throng? ' 

"  '  A  cavalier,'  replied  the  other,  '  has  been  murdered.' 

"  '  Murdered ! '  echoed  Don  Manuel ;  '  and  can  you  tell  me  his 
name? ' 

"  '  Don  Manuel  de  Manara,'  replied  the  stranger,  and  passed 
on. 

' '  Don  Manuel  was  startled  at  this  mention  of  his  own  name ; 
especially  when  applied  to  the  murdered  man.  He  ventured, 
when  it  was  entirely  deserted,  to  approach  the  fatal  spot.  A 
small  cross  had  been  nailed  against  the  wall,  as  is  customary  in 
Spain,  to  mark  the  place  where  a  murder  has  been  committed ; 
and  just  below  it  he  read,  by  the  twinkling  light  of  a  lamp: 
'  Here  was  murdered  Don  Manuel  de  Manara.  Pray  to  God  for 
his  soul ! ' 

"  Still  more  confounded  and  perplexed  by  this  inscription,  he 


76 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


wandered  about  the  streets  until  the  night  was  far  advanced,  and 
all  was  still  and  lonely.  As  he  entered  the  principal  square, 
the  hght  of  torches  suddenly  broke  on  him,  and  he  beheld  a 
grand  funeral  procession  moving  across  it.  There  was  a  great 
train  of  i^riests,  and  many  persons  of  dignified  appearance,  in 
ancient  Spanish  dresses,  attending  as  mourners,  none  of  whom 
he  knew.  Accosting  a  servant  who  followed  in  the  train,  he 
demanded  the  name  of  the  defunct. 

"  'Don  Manuel  de  Manara,'  was  the  reply;  and  it  went  cold 
to  liis  heart.  He  looked,  and  indeed  beheld  the  armorial  bear- 
ings of  his  family  emblazoned  on  the  funeral  escutcheons. 
Yet  not  one  of  his  family  was  to  be  seen  among  the  mourners. 
The  mystery  was  more  and  more  incomprehensible. 

"  He  followed  the  procession  as  it  moved  on  to  the  cathedral. 
The  bier  was  deposited  before  the  high  altar ;  the  funeral  ser- 
vice was  commenced,  and  the  grand  organ  began  to  peal 
through  the  vaulted  aisles. 

"Again  the  youth  ventured  to  question  this  awful  pageant. 
'  Father, '  said  he,  with  trembling  voice,  to  one  of  the  priests, 
'  who  is  this  you  are  about  to  inter? ' 

"  '  Don  Manuel  de  Manara! '  rephed  the  priest. 

' '  '  Father, '  cried  Don  Manuel,  impatiently,  '  you  are  deceived. 
This  is  some  imposture.  Know  that  Don  Manuel  de  Manara  is 
alive  and  well,  and  now  stands  before  you.  I  am  Don  Manuel 
de  Manara ! ' 

"  '  Avaunt,  rash  youth! '  cried  the  priest;  'know  that  Don 
Manuel  de  Manara  is  dead ! — is  dead ! — is  dead ! — and  we  are  all 
souls  from  purgatory,  his  deceased  relatives  and  ancestors,  and 
others  that  have  been  aided  by  masses  of  his  family,  who  are 
permitted  to  come  here  and  pray  for  the  repose  of  his  soul ! ' 

' '  Don  Manuel  cast  round  a  fearf iil  glance  upon  the  assem- 
blage, in  antiquated  Spanish  garbs,  and  recognized  in  their  pale 
and  ghastly  countenances  the  portraits  of  many  an  ancestor 
that  hung  in  the  family  picture-gallery.  He  now  lost  all  self- 
'  command,  rushed  up  to  the  bier,  and  beheld  the  counterpart 
of  himself,  but  in  the  fixed  and  hvid  lineaments  of  death. 
Just  at  that  moment  the  whole  choir  burst  forth  with  a  '  Ee- 
quiescat  in  pace,'  that  shook  the  vaults  of  the  cathedral.  Don 
Manuel  sank  senseless  on  the  pavement.  He  was  found  there 
early  the  next  morning  by  the  sacristan,  and  conveyed  to  his 
home.  When  sufficiently  recovered,  he  sent  for  a  friar,  and 
made  a  full  confession  of  all  that  had  happened. 

" '  My  son,'  said  the  friar,  *  ail  this  is  a  miracle  and  a  mys- 


DON  JUAN, 


n 


tery,  intended  for  thy  conversion  and  salvation.  The  corpse 
thou  hast  seen  was  a  token  that  thou  hadst  died  to  sin  and  the 
world ;  take  warning  by  it,  and  henceforth  live  to  righteous- 
ness and  heaven ! ' 

"Don  Manuel  did  take  warning  by  it.  Guided  by  the  coun- 
sels of  the  worthy  friar,  he  disposed  of  all  his  temporal  affairs ; 
dedicated  the  greater  part  of  his  wealth  to  pious  uses,  espe- 
cially to  the  performance  of  masses  for  souls  in  purgatory; 
and  finally,  entering  a  convent,  became  one  of  the  most  zealous 
and  exemplary  monks  in  Seville. " 


While  my  companion  was  relating  this  story,  my  eyes  wan- 
dered, from  time  to  time,  about  the  dusky  church.  Methought 
the  burly  countenances  of  the  monks  in  their  distant  choir 
assumed  a  pallid,  ghastly  hue,  and  then*  deep  metallic  voices 
had  a  sepulchral  sound.  By  the  time  the  story  was  ended, 
they  had  ended  their  chant;  and,  extinguishing  their  lights, 
glided  one  by  one,  like  shadows,  through  a  small  door  in  the 
side  of  the  choir.  A  deeper  gloom  prevailed  over  the  church ; 
the  figure  opposite  me  on  horseback  grew  more  and  more 
spectral ;  and  I  almost  expected  to  see  it  bow  its  head. 

"It  is  time  to  be  off,"  said  my  companion,  "unless  we 
intend  to  sup  with  the  statue." 

"  I  have  no  relish  for  such  fare  or  such  company,"  replied  I; 
and,  f  ollowmg  my  companion,  we  groped  our  way  through  the 
mouldering  cloisters.  As  we  passed  by  the  ruined  cemetery, 
keeping  up  a  casual  conversation  by  way  of  dispeUing  the 
loneliness  of  the  scene,  I  called  to  mind  the  words  of  the  poet : 

 The  tombs 

And  monumental  caves  of  death  look  cold. 
And  shoot  a  chilluess  to  my  trembling  heart! 
Give  me  thy  hand,  and  let  me  hear  thj'  voice; 
Nay,  speak— and  let  me  hear  thy  voice; 
My  own  affrights  me  with  its  echoes. 

There  wanted  nothing  but  the  marble  statue  of  the  commander 
striding  along  the  echoing  cloisters  to  complete  the  haimted 
scene. 

Since  that  time  I  never  fail  to  attend  the  theatre  whenever 
the  story  of  Don  Juan  is  represented,  whether  in  pantomime 
or  opera.  In  the  sepulchral  scene,  I  feel  myself  qmte  at  home ; 
and  when  the  statue  makes  liis  appearance,  I  greet  him  as  an 
old  acquaintance.    When  the  audience  applaud,  I  look  round 


78 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


upon  them  Avith  a  degree  of  compassion.  Poor  souls !"  I  say- 
to  myself,  ''they  think  they  are  pleased;  they  think  they 
enjoy  this  piece,  and  yet  they  consider  the  whole  as  a  fiction ! 
How  much  more  would  they  enjoy  it,  if  hke  me  they  knew  it 
to  be  true— and  had  seen  the  very  place 


BROEK: 

OR  THE  DUTCH  PARADISE. 

It  has  long  been  a  matter  of  discussion  and  controversy 
among  the  pious  and  the  learned,  as  to  the  situation  of  the 
terrestrial  paradise  whence  our  first  parents  were  exiled. 
This  question  has  been  put  to  rest  by  certain  of  the  faithful  in 
Holland,  who  have  decided  in  favor  of  the  village  of  Broek, 
about  six  miles  from  Amsterdam.  It  may  not,  they  observe, 
correspond  in  all  respects  to  the  description  of  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  handed  down  from  days  of  yore,  but  it  comes  nearer  to 
their  ideas  of  a  perfect  paradise  than  any  other  place  on  earth. 

This  eulogium  induced  me  to  make  some  inquiries  as  to  this 
favored  spot  in  the  course  of  a  sojourn  at  the  city  of  Amster- 
dam, and  the  information  I  procured  fully  justified  the  enthu- 
siastic praises  I  had  heard.  The  village  of  Broek  is  situated  in 
Waterland,  in  the  midst  of  the  greenest  and  richest  pastures  of 
HoUand,  I  may  say,  of  Europe.  These  pastures  are  the  source 
of  its  wealth,  for  it  is  famous  for  its  dairies,  and  for  those  oval 
cheeses  which  regale  and  perfume  the  whole  civilized  world. 
The  population  consists  of  about  six  hundred  persons,  compris- 
ing several  families  which  have  inhabited  the  place  since  time 
immemorial,  and  have  waxed  rich  on  the  products  of  their 
meadows.  They  keep  all  their  wealth  among  themselves, 
intermarrying,  and  keeping  all  strangers  at  a  wary  distance. 
They  are  a  "  hard  money"  people,  and  remarkable  for  turning 
the  penny  the  right  way.  It  is  said  to  have  been  an  old  rule, 
established  by  one  of  the  primitive  financiers  and  legislators  of 
Broek,  that  no  one  should  leave  the  village  with  more  than  six 
guilders  in  his  pocket,  or  return  with  less  than  ten ;  a  shrewd 
regulation,  well  worthy  the  attention  of  modern  pohtical 
economists,  who  are  so  anxious  to  fix  the  balance  of  trade. 

What,  however,  renders  Broek  so  perfect  an  elysium  in  the 
eyes  of  all  true  Hollanders,  is  the  matchless  height  to  which 


BROEK. 


79 


the  spirit  of  cleanliness  is  carried  there.  It  amounts  almost  to 
a  religion  among  the  inhabitants,  who  pass  the  greater  part  of 
their  time  rubbing  and  scrubbing,  and  painting  and  varnishing ; 
each  housewife  vies  with  her  neighbor  in  her  devotion  to  the 
scrubbing-brush,  as  zealous  Catholics  do  in  their  devotion  to 
the  cross ;  and  it  is  said  a  notable  housewife  of  the  place  in 
days  of  yore  is  held  in  pious  remembrance,  and  almost  canon- 
ized as  a  saint,  for  having  died  of  pure  exhaustion  and  chagrin 
in  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  scour  a  black  man  white. 

These  particulars  awakened  my  ardent  curiosity  to  see  a 
place  wliich  I  pictured  to  myself  the  very  fountain-head  of 
certain  hereditary  habits  and  customs  prevalent  among  the 
descendants  of  the  original  Dutch  settlers  of  my  native'  State. 
I  accordingly  lost  no  time  in  performing  a  pilgrimage  to  Broek. 

Before  I  reached  the  place  I  beheld  symptoms  of  the  tranquil 
character  of  its  inhabitants.  A  Uttle  clump-built  boat  was  in 
full  sail  along  the  lazy  bosom  of  a  canal,  but  its  sail  consisted 
of  the  blades  of  two  paddles  stood  on  end,  while  the  navigator 
sat  steering  with  a  third  paddle  in  the  stern,  crouched  down 
like  a  toad,  with  a  slouched  hat  drawn  over  his  eyes.  I 
presumed  him  to  be  some  nautical  lover  on  the  way  to  his 
mistress.  After  proceeding  a  little  farther  I  came  in  sight  of 
the  harbor  or  port  of  destination  of  this  drowsy  navigator. 
This  was  the  Broeken-Meer,  an  artificial  basin,  or  sheet  of 
olive-green  water,  tranquil  as  a  mill-pond.  On  this  the  village 
of  Broek  is  situated,  and  the  borders  are  laboriously  decorated 
with  flower-beds,  box-trees  clipped  into  all  kinds  of  ingenious 
shapes  and  fancies,  and  little  "lust"  houses  or  pavilions. 

I  alighted  outside  of  the  village,  for  no  horse  nor  vehicle  is 
permitted  to  enter  its  precincts,  lest  it  should  cause  defilement 
of  the  well-scoured  pavements.  Shaking  the  dust  off  my  feet, 
therefore,  I  prepared  to  enter,  with  due  reverence  and  circum- 
spection, this  sanctum  sanctorum  of  Dutch  cleanliness.  I 
entered  by  a  narrow  street,  paved  with  yellow  bricks,  laid 
edgewise,  so  clean  that  one  might  eat  from  them.  Indeed, 
they  were  actually  worn  deep,  not  by  the  tread  of  feet,  but  by 
the  friction  of  the  scrubbing-brush. 

The  houses  were  built  of  wood,  and  all  appeared  to  have  been 
freshly  painted,  of  green,  yellow,  and  other  bright  colors. 
They  were  separated  from  each  other  by  gardens  and  orchards, 
and  stood  at  some  httle  distance  from  the  street,  with  wide 
areas  or  courtyards,  paved  in  mosaic,  with  variegated  stones, 
polished  by  frequent  rubbing.    The  areas  were  divided  from 


80 


TlIK  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


the  street  by  curiously- wrought  railings,  or  balustrades,  of  iron, 
surmounted  with  brass  and  copper  balls,  scoured  into  dazzling 
eUulgence.  The  very  trunks  of  the  trees  in  front  of  the 
houses  were  by  the  same  process  made  to  look  as  if  they  had 
been  varnished.  The  porches,  doors,  and  window-frames  of 
the  houses  were  of  exotic  woods,  curiously  carved,  and  polished 
hke  costly  furniture.  The  front  doors  are  never  opened, 
excepting  on  christenings,  marriages,  or  funerals ;  on  all  ordi- 
nary occasions,  visitors  enter  by  the  back  door.  In  former 
tiines,  persons  Av^hen  admitted  had  to  put  on  shppers,  but  this 
oriental  ceremony  is  no  longer  insisted  upon. 

A  poor  devil  Frenchman  who  attended  upon  me  as  cicerone, 
boasted  with  some  degree  of  exultation,  of  a  triumph  of  his 
countrymen  over  the  stern  regulations  of  the  place.  During 
the  time  that  Holland  was  overrun  by  the  armies  of  the  French 
Republic,  a  French  general,  surrounded  by  his  whole  etat 
major,  who  had  come  from  Amsterdam  to  view  the  wonders  of 
Broek,  applied  for  admission  at  one  of  these  taboo'd  portals. 
The  reply  was,  that  the  o^ATier  never  received  any  one  who  did 
not  come  introduced  by  some  friend.  "Very  well,"  said  the 
general,  "take  my  compliments  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  I 
will  return  here  to-morrow  with  a  company  of  soldiers,  ^  pour 
parler  raison  avec  mon  ami  Hollandaisy  Terrified  at  the 
idea  of  having  a  company  of  soldiers  billeted  upon  him,  the 
owner  threw  open  his  house,  entertained  the  general  and  his 
retinue  with  unwonted  hospitality ;  though  it  is  said  it  cost  the 
family  a  month's  scrubbing  and  scouring^  to  restore  all  things 
to  exact  order,  after  tliis  military  invasion.  My  vagabond  in- 
formant seemed  to  consider  this  one  of  the  greatest  victoiies  of 
the  republic. 

I  walked  about  the  place  in  mute  wonder  and  admiration. 
A  dead  stillness  prevailed  around,  like  that  in  the  deserted 
streets  of  Pompeii.  No  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen,  excepting 
now  and  then  a  hand,  and  a  long  pipe,  and  an  occasional  puff 
of  smoke,  out  of  the  window  of  some  "lust-haus"  overhanging 
a  miniature  canal;  and  on  approaching  a  little  nearer,  the 
periphery  in  profile  of  some  robustious  burgher. 

Among  the  grand  houses  pointed  out  to  me  wei'e  tliose  of 
Claes  Bakker,  and  Cornelius  Bakker,  richly  carved  and 
gilded,  with  flower  gardens  and  clipped  shrubberies :  and  that 
of  the  Great  Ditmus,  who,  my  poor  devil  cicerone  informed  me, 
in  a  whisper,  was  worth  two  millions ;  all  these  were  mansions 
shut  up  from  the  world,  and  onlv  kept  to  be  cleaned.  After 


BROEK. 


81 


having  been  conducted  from  one  wonder  to  another  of  the 
village,  I  was  ushered  by  my  guide  into  the  grounds  and 
gardens  of  Mynheer  Broekker,  another  mighty  cheese-manu- 
facturer, worth  eighty  thousand  guilders  a  year.  I  had  re- 
peatedly been  struck  with  the  similarity  of  all  that  I  had  seen 
in  this  amphibious  little  village,  to  the  buildings  and  land- 
scapes on  Chinese  platters  and  tea-pots ;  but  here  I  found  the 
similarity  complete;  for  I  was  told  that  these  gardens  were 
modelled  upon  Van  Bramm's  description  of  those  of  Yuen  min 
Yuen,  in  China.  Here  were  serpentine  walks,  with  trellised 
borders;  winding  canals,  with  fanciful  Chinese  bridges; 
flower-beds  resembling  huge  baskets,  with  the  flower  of  "love 
hes  bleeding"  faUing  over  to  the  ground.  But  mostly  had  the 
fancy  of  Mynheer  Broekker  been  displayed  about  a  stagnant 
little  lake,  on  which  a  corpulent  httle  pinnace  lay  at  anchor. 
On  the  border  was  a  cottage,  within  which  were  a  wooden  man 
and  woman  seated  at  table,  and  a  wooden  dog  beneath,  all  the 
size  of  life :  on  pressing  a  spring,  the  woman  commenced  spin- 
ning, and  the  dog  barked  furiously.  On  the  lake  were  wooden 
swans,  painted  to  the  life;  some  floating,  others  on  the  nest 
among  the  rushes;  while  a  wooden  sportsman,  crouched 
among  the  bushes,  was  preparing  his  gun  to  take  deadly  aim. 
In  another  part  of  the  garden  was  a  dominie  in  his  clerical 
robes,  with  wig,  pipe,  and  cocked  hat ;  and  mandarins  with 
nodding  heads,  amid  red  lions,  green  tigers,  and  blue  hares. 
Last  of  all,  the  heathen  deities,  in  wood  and  plaster,  male  and 
female,  naked  and  bare-faced  as  usual,  and  seeming  to  stare 
with  wonder  at  finding  themselves  in  such  strange  company. 

My  shabby  French  guide,  while  he  pointed  out  all  these 
mechanical  marvels  of  the  garden,  was  anxious  to  let  me  see 
that  he  had  too  polite  a  taste  to  be  pleased  with  them.  At 
every  new  nick-nack  he  would  screw  down  his  mouth,  shrug 
up  his  shoulders,  take  a  pinch  of  snufl:,  and  exclaim:  "i)Ia/o^, 
Monsieur^  ces  Hollandais  sont  forts  pour  ces  hetises  IdP'' 

To  attempt  to  gain  admission  to  any  of  these  stately  abodes 
was  out  of  the  question,  ha-v^ng  no  company  of  soldiers  to 
enforce  a  solicitation.  I  was  fortunate  enough,  however, 
through  the  aid  of  my  guide,  to  made  my  way  into  the 
kitchen  of  the  illustrious  Ditmus,  and  I  question  whether  the 
parlor  would  have  proved  more  worthy  of  observation.  The 
cook,  a  little  wiry,  hook-nosed  woman,  worn  thin  by  incessant 
action  and  friction,  was  bustling  about  among  her  kettles  and 
saucepans,  with  the  scuUion  at  her  heels,  both  clattering  iu 


82 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


wooden  shoes,  which  were  as  clean  and  white  as  the  milk- 
pails  ;  rows  of  vessels,  of  brass  and  copper,  regiments  of  pewter 
dishes,  and  portly  porringers,  gave  resplendent  evidence  of  the 
intensity  of  their  cleanliness ;  the  very  trammels  and  hangers 
in  the  fireplace  were  highly  scoured,  and  the  bmmished  face  of 
the  good  Saint  Nicholas  shone  forth  from  the  iron  plate  of  the 
chimney-back. 

Among  the  decorations  of  the  kitchen  was  a  printed  sheet  of 
woodcuts,  representing  the  various  holiday  customs  of  Hol- 
land, with  explanatory  rhymes.  Here  I  was  dehghted  to 
recognize  the  joUities  of  New  Year's  Day;  the  festivities  of 
Paas  and  Pinkster,  and  all  the  other  merry-makings  handed 
down  in  my  native  place  from  the  earliest  times  of  New  Am- 
sterdam, and  which  had  been  such  bright  spots  in  the  year  in 
my  childhood.  I  eagerly  made  myself  master  of  this  precious 
document,  for  a  trifling  consideration,  and  bore  it  off  as  a 
memento  of  the  place ;  though  I  question  if,  in  so  doing,  I  did 
not  carry  off  with  me  the  whole  current  Hterature  of  Broek. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  this  \dllage  is  the  paradise 
of  cows  as  well  as  men ;  indeed  you  would  almost  suppose  the 
cow  to  be  as  much  an  object  of  worship  here,  as  the  bull  was 
among  the  ancient  Egyptians ;  and  well  does  she  merit  it,  for 
she  is  in  fact  the  patroness  of  the  place.  The  semae  scrupulous 
cleanliness,  however,  which  pervades  everything  else,  is  mani- 
fested in  the  treatment  of  this  venerated  animal.  She  is  not 
permitted  to  perambulate  the  place,  but  in  winter,  when  she 
forsakes  the  rich  pasture,  a  well-built  house  is  provided  for 
her,  well  painted,  and  maintained  in  the  most  perfect  order. 
Her  stall  is  of  ample  dimensions;  the  fioor  is  scrubbed  and 
polished ;  her  hide  is  daily  curried  and  brushed  and  sponged  to 
her  heart's  content,  and  her  tail  is  daintily  tucked  up  to  the 
ceiling,  and  decorated  with  a  riband ! 

On  my  way  back  through  the  village,  I  passed  the  house  of 
the  prediger,  or  preacher ;  a  very  comfortable  mansion,  which 
led  me  to  augur  well  of  the  state  of  religion  in  the  village.  On 
inquiry,  I  was  told  that  for  a  long  time  the  inhabitants  hved 
in  a  great  state  of  indifference  as  to  religious  matters :  it  was 
in  vain  that  their  preachers  endeavored  to  arouse  their 
thoughts  as  to  a  future  state;  the  joys  of  heaven,  as  com- 
monly depicted,  were  but  Kttle  to  their  taste.  At  length  a 
dominie  appeared  among  them  who  struck  out  in  a  different 
vein.  He  depicted  the  New  Jerusalem  as  a  place  all  smooth 
and  level;  with  beautiful  dykes^^and  ditches,  and  canals;  and 


:SK HITCH m  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


83 


houses  all  shining  with  paint  and  varnish,  and  glazed  tiles; 
and  where  there  should  never  come  horse,  or  ass,  or  cat,  or 
dog,  or  anything  that  could  make  noise  or  dirt;  but  there 
should  be  nothing  but  rubbing  and  scrubbing,  and  washing 
and  painting,  and  gilding  and  varnishing,  for  ever  and  ever, 
amen !  Since  that  time,  the  good  housewives  of  Broek  have  all 
turned  their  faces  Zion-ward. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 

FROM  THE  TRAVELLING  NOTE-BOOK  OF  GEOFFREY  CRAYON, 

GENT. 

A  Parisian  hotel  is  a  street  set  on  end,  the  grand  staircase 
forming  the  highway,  and  every  floor  a  separate  habitation. 
Let  me  describe  the  one  in  which  I  am  lodged,  which  may 
serve  as  a  specimen  of  its  class.  It  is  a  huge  quadrangular 
pile  of  stone,  built  round  a  spacious  paved  court.  The  ground 
floor  is  occupied  by  shops,  magazines,  and  domestic  offices. 
Then  comes  the  entresol^  with  low  ceihngs,  short  windows, 
and  dwarf  chambers ;  then  succeed  a  succession  of  floors,  or 
stories,  rising  one  above  the  other,  to  the  number  of  Mahomet's 
heavens.  Each  floor  is  like  a  distinct  mansion,  complete  in 
itself,  with  ante-chamber,  saloons,  dining  and  sleeping  rooms, 
kitchen,  and  other  conveniences  for  the  accommodation  of  a 
family.  Some  floors  are  divided  into  two  or  more  suites  of 
apartments.  Each  apartment  has  its  main  door  of  entrance, 
opening  upon  the  staircase,  or  landing-places,  and  locked  like 
a  street  door.  Thus  several  families  and  numerous  single  per- 
sons live  under  the  same  roof,  totally  independent  of  each 
other,  and  may  live  so  for  years  without  holding  more  inter- 
course than  is  kept  up  in  other  cities  by  residents  in  the  same 
street. 

Like  the  great  world,  this  little  microcosm  has  its  gradations 
of  rank  and  style  and  importance.  The  Premier^  or  flrst  floor, 
with  its  grand  saloons,  lofty  ceilings,  and  splendid  furniture, 
is  decidedly  the  aristocratical  part  of  the  establishment.  The 
second  floor  is  scarcely  less  aristocratical  and  magnificent ;  the 
other  floors  go  on  lessening  in  splendor  as  they  gain  in  altitude, 
and  end  with  the  attics,  the  region  of  petty  tailors,  clerks,  and 


84 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


sewing  girls.  To  make  the  filling  up  of  the  mansion  com- 
plete, every  odd  nook  and  corner  is  fitted  up  as  a  joli  petit 
appavtement  a  gar^on  (a  pretty  little  bachelor's  apartment), 
that  is  to  say,  some  little  dark  inconvenient  nestling-place  for 
a  poor  devil  of  a  bachelor. 

The  whole  domain  is  shut  up  from  the  street  by  a  great 
porte-cochere,  or  portal,  calculated  for  the  admission  of  car- 
riages. This  consists  of  two  massy  folding-doors,  that  swing 
heavily  open  upon  a  spacious  entrance,  passing  under  the  front 
of  the  edifice  into  the  court-ya.rd.  On  one  side  is  a  spacious 
staircase  leading  to  the  upper  apartments.  Immediately  with- 
out the  portal  is  the  porter's  lodge,  a  small  room  with  one  or 
two  bedrooms  adjacent,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  con- 
cierge, or  porter,  and  his  family.  This  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant functionaries  of  the  hotel.  He  is,  in  fact,  the  Cerberus 
of  the  establishment,  and  no  one  can  pass  in  or  out  without  his 
knowledge  and  consent.  The  porte-cochere  in  general  is  fas- 
tened by  a  sliding  bolt,  from  which  a  cord  or  wire  passes  into 
the  porter's  lodge.  Whoever  wishes  to  go  out  must  speak  to 
the  porter,  who  draws  the  bolt.  A  visitor  from  without  gives 
a  single  rap  with  the  massive  knocker ;  the  bolt  is  immediately 
drawn,  as  if  by  an  invisible  hand;  the  door  stands  ajar,  the 
visitor  pushes  it  open,  and  enters.  A  face  presents  itself  at 
the  glass  door  of  the  porter's  little  chamber ;  the  stranger  pro- 
nounces the  name  of  the  person  he  comes  to  see.  If  the  person 
or  family  is  of  importance,  occupying  the  first  or  second  floor, 
the  porter  sounds  a  bell  once  or  twice,  to  give  notice  that  a 
visitor  is  at  hand.  The  stranger  in  the  meantime  ascends  the 
great  staircase,  the  highway  common  to  all,  and  arrives  at  the 
outer  door,  equivalent  to  a  street  door,  of  the  suite  of  rooms 
inhabited  by  his  friends.  Beside  this  hangs  a  bell-cord,  with 
which  he  rings  for  admittance. 

When  the  family  or  person  inquired  for  is  of  less  importance, 
or  lives  in  some  remote  part  of  the  mansion  less  easy  to  be 
apprised,  no  signal  is  given.  The  applicant  pronounces  the 
name  at  the  porter's  door,  and  is  told,  ^^Montez  au  troisieine, 
au  quatrieme ;  sounez  a  la  porte  a  droite,  ou  d  gauche; 
("Ascend  to  the  third  or  fourth  story;  ring  the  beU  on  the 
right  or  left  hand  door, ")  as  the  case  may  be. 

The  porter  and  his  wife  act  as  domestics  to  such  of  the  ia- 
mates  of  the  mansion  as  do  not  keep  servants ;  making  their 
beds,  arranging  their  rooms,  lighting  their  fires,  and  doing 
other  menial  offices,  for  which  they  receive  a  monthly  stipend. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


85 


They  are  also  in  confidential  intercourse  with  the  servants  of 
the  other  inmates,  and,  having  an  eye  on  all  the  in- comers  and 
out-goers,  are  thus  enabled,  by  hook  and  by  crook,  to  learn  the 
secrets  and  domestic  history  of  every  member  of  the  little  ter- 
ritory within  the  porte-cochere. 

The  porter's  lodge  is  accordingly  a  great  scene  of  gossip, 
v>rhere  all  the  private  affairs  of  this  interior  neighborhood  are 
discussed.  The  court-yard,  also,  is  an  assembling  place  in  the 
evenings  for  the  servants  of  the  different  families,  and  a  sister- 
hood of  sewing  girls  from  the  entresols  and  the  attics,  to  play 
at  various  games,  and  dance  to  the  music  of  their  own  songs, 
and  the  echoes  of  their  feet,  at  which  assemblages  the  porter's 
daughter  takes  the  lead;  a  fresh,  pretty,  buxom  girl,  generally 
called  "Xa  Petite,'^  though  almost  as  tall  as  a  grenadier. 
These  little  evening  gatherings,  so  characteristic  of  this  gay 
country,  are  countenanced  by  the  various  families  of  the  man- 
sion, who  often  look  down  from  their  windows  and  balconies, 
on  moonhght  evenings,  and  enjoy  the  simple  revels  of  their 
domestics.  I  must  observe,  however,  that  the  hotel  I  am 
describing  is  rather  a  quiet,  retired  on-^,  where  most  of  the 
inmates  are  permanent  residents  from  year  to  year,  so  that 
there  is  more  of  the  spirit  of  neighborhood  than  in  the  bust- 
ling, fashionable  hotels  in  the  gay  parts  of  Paris,  which  are 
continually  changing  their  inhabitants. 

MY  FRENCH  NEIGHBOR. 

I  OFTEN  amuse  myself  by  watching  from  my  window  (which, 
by  the  bye,  is  tolerably  elevated),  the  movements  of  the  teem- 
ing little  world  below  me ;  and  as  I  am  on  sociable  terms  with 
the  porter  and  his  wife,  I  gather  from  them,  as  they  light  my 
fire,  or  serve  my  breakfast,  anecdotes  of  all  my  fellow  lodgers. 
I  have  been  somewhat  curious  in  studying  a  little  antique 
Frenchman,  who  occupies  one  of  the  jolie  chambres  a  gargon 
already  mentioned.  He  is  one  of  those  superannuated  veterans 
who  flourished  before  the  revolution,  and  have  weathered  all 
the  storms  of  Paris,  in  consequence,  very  probably,  of  being 
fortunately  too  insignificant  to  attract  attention.  He  has  a 
small  income,  which  he  manages  with  the  skill  of  a  French 
economist;  appropriating  so  much  for  his  lodgings,  so  much 
for  his  meals;  so  much  for  his  visits  to  St.  Cloud  and  Yer- 
sailles,  and  so  much  for  his  seat  at  the  theatre.  He  has  resided 
in  the  hotel  for  years,  and  always  in  the  same  chamber,  wliich 


86 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


he  furnishes  at  his  own  expense.  The  decorations  of  the  room 
mark  his  various  ages.  There  are  some  gallant  pictures  which 
he  hung  up  in  his  younger  days ;  with  a  portrait  of  a  lady  of 
rank,  whom  he  speaks  tenderly  of,  dressed  in  the  old  French 
taste ;  and  a  pretty  opera  dancer,  pirouetting  in  a  hoop  petti- 
coat, who  lately  died  at  a  good  old  age.  In  a  comer  of  this 
picture  is  stuck  a  prescription  for  rheumatism,  and  below  it 
i^tands  an  easy-chair.  He  has  a  small  parrot  at  the  window, 
to  amuse  him  when  witliin  doors,  and  a  pug  dog  to  accompany 
him  in  his  daily  peregrinations.  While  I  am  writing  he  is 
crossing  the  court  to  go  out.  He  is  attired  in  his  best  coat,  of 
sky-blue,  and  is  doubtless  bound  for  the  Tuileries.  His  hair  is 
dressed  in  the  old  style,  with  powdered  ear-locks  and  a  pig- tail. 
His  little  dog  trips  after  him,  sometimes  on  four  legs,  some- 
times on  three,  and  looking  as  if  his  leather  small-clothes  were 
too  tight  for  him.  Now  the  old  gentleman  stops  to  have  a 
word  with  an  old  crony  who  lives  in  the  entresol,  and  is  jusc 
returning  from  his  promenade.  Now  they  take  a  pinch  of 
snuff  together;  now  they  pull  out  huge  red  cotton  handker- 
chiefs (those  "flags  of  abomination,"  as  they  have  well  been 
called)  and  blow  their  noses  most  sonorously.  Now  they  turn 
to  make  remarks  upon  then*  two  little  dogs,  who  are  exchang- 
ing the  morning's  salutation ;  now  they  part,  and  my  old  gen- 
tleman stops  to  have  a  passing  word  with  the  porter's  wife; 
and  now  he  sallies  forth,  and  is  fairly  launched  upon  the  town 
for  the  day. 

No  man  is  so  methodical  as  a  complete  idler,  and  none  so 
scrupulous  in  measurmg  and  portioning  out  his  time  as  he 
whose  time  is  worth  nothing.  The  old  gentleman  in  question 
has  his  exact  hour  for  rising,  and  for  shaving  himself  by  a 
small  mirror  hung  against  his  casement.  He  salhes  forth  at  a 
certain  hour  every  morning  to  take  his  cup  of  coffee  and  his 
roll  at  a  certain  cafe,  where  he  reads  the  papers.  He  has  been 
a  regular  admirer  of  the  lady  who  presides  at  the  bar,  and 
always  stops  to  have  a  little  badinage  vnth.  her  en  j^ctssant. 
He  has  his  regular  walks  on  the  Boulevards  and  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  where  he  sets  his  watch  by  the  petard  fired  off  by  the 
sun  at  mid-day.  He  has  his  daily  resort  in  the  Garden  of  the 
Tuileries,  to  meet  with  a  knot  of  veteran  idlers  like  hunself, 
who  talk  on  pretty  much  the  same  subjects  whenever  they 
meet.  He  has  been  present  at  all  the  sights  and  shows  and 
rejoicings  of  Paris  for  the  last  fifty  yeai*s;  has  witnessed  the 
great  events  of  the  revolution!  the  guillotining  of  the  king  and 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  18.?5. 


87 


queen ;  the  coronation  of  Bonaparte ;  the  capture  of  Paris,  and 
the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons.  All  these  he  speaks  of  with 
the  coolness  of  a  theatrical  critic ;  and  I  question  whether  he 
has  not  been  gratified  by  each  in  its  turn ;  not  from  any  inher- 
ent love  of  tumult,  but  from  that  insatiable  appetite  for  spec- 
tacle which  prevails  among  the  inhabitants  of  this  metropolis, 
I  have  been  amused  with  a  farce,  in  which  one  of  these  syste- 
matic old  trifiers  is  represented.  He  sings  a  song  detailing  his 
whole  day's  round  of  insignificant  occupations,  and  goes  to  bed 
dehghted  with  the  idea  that  his  next  day  will  be  an  exact  repe- 
tition of  the  same  routine : 

"  Je  me  couche  le  soir, 
Enchante  de  pouvoir  • 
Recommencer  mou  train 
Le  lendemain 
Matin." 

TEE  ENGLISHMAN  AT  PARIS. 

In  another  part  of  the  hotel  a  handsome  suite  of  rooms  is 
occupied  by  an  old  Enghsh  gentleman,  of  great  probity,  some 
understanding,  and  very  considerable  crustiness,  who  has  come 
to  France  to  live  economically.  He  has  a  very  fair  property, 
but  his  wife,  being  of  that  blessed  kind  compared  in  Scripture 
to  the  fruitful  vine,  has  overwhelmed  him  with  a  family  of 
buxom  daughters,  who  hang  clustering  about  him,  ready  to  be 
gathered  by  any  hand.  He  is  seldom  to  be  seen  in  pubhc  with- 
out one  hanging  on  each  arm,  and  smihng  on  all  the  world, 
while  his  own  mouth  is  drawn  down  at  each  corner  like  a  mas- 
tiff's with  internal  growling  at  everything  about  him.  He  ad- 
heres rigidly  to  Enghsh  fashion  in  dress,  and  trudges  about  in 
long  gaiters  and  broad-brimmed  hat;  while  his  daughters 
almost  overshadow  him  with  feathers,  flowers,  and  French 
bonnets. 

He  contrives  to  keep  up  an  atmosphere  of  English  habits, 
opinions,  and  prejudices,  and  to  carry  a  semblance  of  London 
into  the  very  heart  of  Paris.  His  mornings  are  spent  at  Gahg- 
nani's  news-room,  where  he  forms  one  of  a  knot  of  inveterate 
quidnuncs,  who  read  the  same  articles  over  a  dozen  times 
in  a  dozen  different  papers.  He  generally  dines  in  company 
with  some  of  his  own  countrymen,  and  they  have  what  is 
called  a  "comfortable  sitting"  after  dinner,  in  the  English 
fashion,  drinking  wine,  discussing  the  news  of  the  London 
papers,  and  canvassing  the  French  character,  the  French  me- 


88 


TllIC  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


tropolis,  and  the  French  revolution,  endin.c:  with  a  unanimous 
admission  of  English  courage,  English  morality,  English  cook- 
ery, English  wealth,  the  magnitude  of  London,  and  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  French. 

His  evenings  are  chiefly  spent  at  a  club  of  his  countrymen, 
where  the  London  papers  are  taken.  Sometimes  his  daughters 
entice  him  to  the  theatres,  but  not  often.  He  abuses  French 
tragedy,  as  all  fustian  and  bombast.  Talma  as  a  ranter,  and 
Duchesnois  as  a  mere  termagant.  It  is  true  his  ear  is  not  suffi- 
ciently familiar  with  the  language  to  understand  French  verse, 
and  he  generally  goes  to  sleep  during  the  performance.  The 
wit  of  the  French  comedy  is  flat  and  pointless  to  him.  He 
would  not  give  one  of  Munden's  wry  faces,  or  Listen's  inex- 
pressible looks,  for  the  whole  of  it. 

He  will  not  admit  that  Paris  has  any  advantage  over  London. 
The  Seine  is  a  muddy  rivulet  in  comparison  with  the  Thames ; 
the  West  End  of  London  surpasses  the  finest  parts  of  the 
French  capital;  and  on  some  one's  observing  that  there  was 
a  very  tliick  fog  out  of  doors:  "Pish!"  said  he,  crustily,  "it's 
nothing  to  the  fogs  we  have  in  London." 

He  has  infinite  trouble  in  bringing  his  table  into  anything 
like  conformity  to  English  rule.  With  his  hquors,  it  is  true, 
he  is  tolerably  successful.  He  procures  London  porter,  and  a 
stock  of  port  and  sherry,  at  considerable  expense ;  for  he  ob- 
serves that  he  cannot  stand  those  cursed  thin  French  wines, 
they  dilute  Ms  blood  so  much  as  to  give  him  the  rheimiatism. 
As  to  their  white  wines,  he  stigmatizes  them  as  mere  substitutes 
for  cider;  and  as  to  claret,  why  "it  would  be  port  if  it  could." 
He  has  continual  quarrels  with  liis  French  cook,  whom  he 
renders  wretched  by  insisting  on  his  conforming  to  ]\Irs.  Glass ; 
for  it  is  easier  to  convert  a  Frenchman  from  his  religion  than 
his  cookery.  The  poor  fellow,  by  dint  of  repeated  efforts,  once 
brought  himself  to  serve  up  ros  hif  sufficiently  raw  to  suit  what 
he  considered  the  cannibal  taste  of  his  master ;  but  then  he 
could  not  refrain,  at  the  last  moment,  adding  some  exquisite 
sauce,  that  put  the  old  gentleman  in  a  fury. 

He  detests  wood-fires,  and  has  procured  a  quantity  of  coal ; 
but  not  having  a  grate,  he  is  obliged  to  burn  it  on  the  hearth. 
Here  he  sits  poking  and  stirring  the  fire  with  one  end  of  a  tongs, 
while  the  room  is  as  murky  as  a  smithy ;  raihng  at  French 
chimneys,  French  masons,  and  French  architects;  giving  a 
poke  at  the  end  of  every  sentence,  as  though  he  were  stirring 
up  the  very  bowels  of  the  dehnquents  he  is  anathematizing. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


89 


He  lives  in  a  state  militant  with  inanimate  objects  around  him ; 
gets  into  high  dudgeon  with  doors  and  casements,  because  they 
will  not  come  under  English  law,  and  has  implacable  feuds 
with  sundry  refractory  pieces  of  furniture.  Among  these  is 
one  in  particular  with  which  he  is  sure  to  have  a  high  quarrel 
every  time  he  goes  to  dress.  It  is  a  commode,  one  of  those 
smooth,  polished,  plausible  pieces  of  French  furniture,  that 
have  the  perversity  of  five  hundred  devils.  Each  drawer  has  a 
will  of  its  own ;  will  open  or  not,  just  as  the  whim  takes  it,  and 
sets  lock  and  key  at  defiance.  Sometimes  a  drawer  will  refuse 
to  yield  to  either  persuasion  or  force,  and  will  part  with  both 
handles  rather  than  yield ;  another  will  come  out  in  the  most 
coy  and  coquettish  manner  imaginable;  elbowing  along,  zig- 
zag ;  one  corner  retreating  as  the  other  advances ;  making  a 
thousand  difficulties  and  objections  at  every  move ;  until  the 
old  gentleman,  out  of  all  patience,  gives  a  sudden  jerk,  and 
brings  drawer  and  contents  into  the  ixdddle  of  the  floor. 
His  hostility  to  this  unlucky  piece  of  furniture  increases  every 
day,  as-  if  incensed  that  it  does  not  grow  better.  He  is  hke  the 
fretful  invahd  who  cursed  his  bed,  that  the  longer  he  lay  the 
harder  it  grew.  The  only  benefit  he  has  derived  from  the 
quarrel  is,  that  it  has  furnished  him  with  a  crusty  joke,  which 
he  utters  on  all  occasions.  He  swears  that  a  French  commode 
is  the  most  incommodious  thing  in  existence,  and  that  although 
the  nation  cannot  make  a  joint-stool  that  will  stand  steady,  yet 
they  are  always  talking  of  everything's  being  perfectionee. 

His  servants  understand  his  humor,  and  avail  themselves  of 
it.  He  was  one  day  disturbed  by  a  pertinacious  rattling  and 
shaking  at  one  of  the  doors,  and  bawled  out  in  an  angry  tone 
to  know  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  "Sir,"  said  the  foot- 
man, testily,  "  it  s  this  confounded  French  lock !"  "Ah !"  said 
the  old  gentleman,  pacified  by  this  hit  at  the  nation,  "I 
thought  there  was  something  French  at  the  bottom  of  it  1" 

ENOLISn  AND  FRENCH  CHARACTER. 

As  I  am  a  mere  looker-on  in  Europe,  and  hold  myself  ag 
much  as  possible  aloof  from  its  quarrels  and  prejudices,  I  feel 
something  like  one  overlooking  a  game,  who,  without  any 
great  skill  of  his  own,  can  occasionally  perceive  the  blunders 
of  much  abler  players.  This  neutrahty  of  feeling  enables  me 
to  enjoy  the  contrasts  of  character  presented  in  tliis  time  of 
general  peace,  when  the  various  people  of  Europe,  who  have  so 


90 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


long  been  sundered  by  wars,  are  brought  together  and  placed 
side  by  side  in  this  great  gathering-place  of  nations.  No 
greater  contrast,  however,  is  exhibited  than  that  of  the 
French  and  English.  The  peace  has  deluged  this  gay  capital 
with  English  visitors  of  all  ranks  and  conditions.  They 
throng  every  place  of  curiosity  and  amusement ;  fill  the  pub- 
lic gardens,  the  galleries,  the  cafes,  saloons,  theatres;  always 
herding  together,  never  associating  with  the  French.  The 
two  nations  are  hke  two  threads  of  different  colors,  tangled 
together  but  never  blended. 

In  fact,  they  present  a  continual  antithesis,  and  seem  to  value 
themselves  upon  being  unlike  each  other ;  yet  each  have  their 
peculiar  merits,  which  should  entitle  them  to  each  other's 
esteem.  The  French  intellect  is  quick  and  active.  It  flashes 
its  way  into  a  subject  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning ;  seizes 
upon  remote  conclusions  with  a  sudden  bound,  and  its  deduc- 
tions are  almost  intuitive.  The  English  intellect  is  less  rapid, 
but  more  persevering ;  less  sudden,  but  more  sure  in  its  deduc- 
tions. The  quickness  and  mobihty  of  the  French  enable  them 
to  find  enjoyment  in  the  multiplicity  of  sensations.  They 
speak  and  act  more  from  immediate  impressions  than  from 
reflection  and  meditation.  They  are  therefore  more  social  and 
com.municative ;  more  fond  of  society,  and  of  places  of  public 
resort  and  amusement.  An  Englishman  is  more  reflective  in 
his  habits.  He  lives  in  the  world  of  his  own  thoughts,  and 
seems  more  seK-existent  and  self-dependent.  He  loves  the 
quiet  of  his  own  apartment ;  even  when  abroad,  he  in  a  man- 
ner makes  a  httle  solitude  around  him,  by  his  silence  and 
reserve;  he  moves  about  shy  and  sohtary,  and  as  it  were 
buttoned  up,  body  and  soul. 

The  French  are  great  optimists ;  they  seize  upon  every  good 
as  it  flies,  and  revel  in  the  passing  pleasure.  The  Englishman 
is  too  apt  to  neglect  the  present  good,  in  preparing  against  the 
possible  evil.  However  adversities  may  lower,  let  the  sun 
shine  but  for  a  moment,  and  forth  salHes  the  mercurial  French- 
man, in  holiday  dress  and  holiday  spirits,  gay  as  a  butterfly, 
as  though  his  sunshine  were  perpetual ;  but  let  the  sun  beam 
never  so  brightly,  so  there  be  but  a  cloud  in  the  horizon,  the 
wary  Englishman  ventures  forth  distrustfully,  with  his  um- 
brella in  his  hand. 

The  Frenchman  has  a  wonderful  facihty  at  turning  small 
things  to  advantage.  No  one  can  be  gay  and  luxurious  on 
smaller  means ;  no  one  requires  less  expense  to  be  happy.  He 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1835. 


91 


practises  a  kind  of  gilding  in  his  style  of  living,  and  hammers 
out  every  guinea  into  gold  leaf.  The  Englishman,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  expensive  in  his  habits,  and  expensive  in  his  enjoy- 
ments. He  values  everything,  whether  useful  or  ornamental, 
by  what  it  costs.  He  has  no  satisfaction  in  show,  unless  it  be 
solid  and  complete.  Everything  goes  with  him  by  the  square 
foot.  Whatever  display  he  makes,  the  depth  is  sure  to  equal 
ohe  surface. 

The  Frenchman's  habitation,  hke  himself,  is  open,  cheerfiU, 
bustling,  and  noisy.  He  lives  in  a  part  of  a  great  hotel,  with 
.  \vide  portal,  paved  court,  a  spacious  dirty  stone  staircase,  and 
a  family  on  every  floor.  All  is  clatter  and  chatter.  He  is  good 
humored  and  talkative  with  his  servants,  sociable  with  his 
neighbors,  and  complaisant  to  all  the  world.  Anybody  has 
access  to  himself  and  his  apartments;  his  very  bed-room  is 
open  to  visitors,  whatever  may  be  its  state  of  confusion ;  and 
all  this  not  from  any  pecuharly  hospitable  feehng,  but  from 
that  communicative  habit  which  predominates  over  his  char- 
acter. 

The  Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  ensconces  himself  in  a  snug 
brick  mansion,  which  he  has  all  to  himself;  locks  the  front 
door ;  puts  broken  bottles  along  his  walls,  and  spring-g-uns  and 
man-traps  in  his  gardens;  shrouds  himself  with  trees  and 
window-curtains;  exults  in  his  quiet  and  privacy,  and  seems 
disposed  to  keep  out  noise,  daylight,  and  company.  His  house, 
like  liimself ,  has  a  reserved,  inhospitable  exterior ;  yet  whoever 
gains  admittance  is  apt  to  find  a  warm  heart  and  warm  fireside 
within. 

The  French  excel  in  wit,  the  English  in  humor ;  the  French 
have  gayer  fancy,  the  English  richer  imagination.  The  former 
are  full  of  sensibility ;  easily  moved,  and  prone  to  sudden  and 
great  excitement;  but  their  excitement  is  not  durable;  the 
EngHsh  are  more  phlegmatic ;  not  so  readily  affected,  but  capa- 
ble of  being  aroused  to  great  enthusiasm.  The  faults  of  these 
opposite  temperaments  are  that  the  vivacity  of  the  French  is 
apt  to  sparkle  up  and  be  frothy,  the  gravity  of  the  English  to 
settle  down  and  grow  muddy.  When  the  two  characters  can 
be  fixed  in  a  medium,  the  French  kept  from  effervescence  and 
the  English  from  stagnation,  both  will  be  found  excellent. 

This  contrast  of  character  may  also  be  noticed  in  the  great 
concerns  of  the  two  nations.  The  ardent  Frenchman  is  all  for 
mihtary  renown ;  he  fights  for  glory,  that  is  to  say  for  success 
in  arms.   For,  provided  the  national  flag  is  victorious,  he  cares 


92 


THE  CRA  YON  PAPERS. 


little  about  the  expense,  the  injustice,  or  the  inutility  of  the 
war.  It  is  wonderful  how  the  poorest  Frenchman  will  revel  on 
a  triumphant  bulletin ;  a  great  victory  is  meat  and  drink  to 
liini ;  and  at  the  sight  of  a  military  sovereign,  bringing  home 
captured  cannon  and  captured  standards,  he  throws  up  his 
greasy  cap  in  the  air,  and  is  ready  to  jump  out  of  his  wooden 
shoes  for  joy. 

John  Bull,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  reasoning,  considerate  per- 
son. If  he  does  wrong,  it  is  in  the  most  rational  way  imagin- 
able. He  fights  because  the  good  of  the  world  requires  it.  He 
is  a  moral  person,  and  makes  war  upon  his  neighbor  for  the 
mamtenance  of  peace  and  good  order,  and  sound  principles. 
He  is  a  money-making  personage,  and  fights  for  the  prosperity 
of  commerce  and  manufactm-es.  Thus  the  two  nations  have 
been  fighting,  time  out  of  mind,  for  glory  and  good.  The 
French,  in  pursuit  of  glory,  have  had  their  capital  twice  taken ; 
and  John  in  pursuit  of  good,  has  run  himself  over  head  and 
ears  in  debt. 

THE  TUILERIES  AND  WINDSOR  CASTLE. 

I  HAVE  sometimes  fancied  I  could  discover  national  charac- 
teristics in  national  edifices.  In  the  Chateau  of  the  Tuileries, 
for  instance,  I  perceive  the  same  jumble  of  contrarieties  that 
marks  the  French  character ;  the  same  whimsical  mixtiu"e  of 
the  great  and  the  httle ;  the  splendid  and  the  paltry,  the  sub- 
lime and  the  grotesque.  On  visiting  this  famous  pile,  the  first 
thing  that  strikes  both  eye  and  ear  is  military  display.  The 
courts  glitter  with  steel-clad  soldiery,  and  resound  with  the 
tramp  of  horse,  the  roll  of  drum,  and  the  bray  of  trumpet. 
Dismounted  guardsmen  patrol  its  arcades,  with  loaded  carbines, 
jinghng  spurs,  and  clanking  sabres.  Gigantic  grenadiers  are 
posted  about  its  staircases:  young  officers  of  the  guards  loU 
from  the  balconies,  or  lounge  in  groups  upon  the  terraces ;  and 
the  gleam  of  bayonet  from  window  to  window,  shows  that 
sentinels  are  pacing  up  and  down  the  corridors  and  ante- 
chambers. The  first  floor  is  brilliant  with  the  splendors  of  a 
court.  French  taste  has  tasked  itself  in  adorning  the  sump- 
tuous suites  of  apartments ;  nor  are  the  gilded  chapel  and  the 
splendid  theatre  forgotten,  where  piety  and  pleasure  are  next- 
door  neighbors,  and  harmonize  together  with  perfect  French 
hienseance. 

Mingled  up  with  all  this  regal  and  military  magnificence,  is 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


93 


a  world  of  whimsical  and  makeshift  detail.  A  great  part  of 
the  huge  edifice  is  cut  up  into  little  chambers  and  nesthng- 
places  for  retainers  of  the  court,  dependants  on  retainers,  and 
hangers-on  of  dependants.  Some  are  squeezed  into  narrow 
entresols,  those  low,  dark,  intermediate  shces  of  apartments 
between  floors,  the  inhabitants  of  which  seem  shoved  in  edge- 
ways, like  books  between  narrow  shelves ;  others  are  perched 
like  swallows,  undes  the  eaves ;  the  high  roofs,  too,  which  are 
as  tall  and  steep  as  a  French  cocked-hat,  have  rows  of  little 
dormer  windows,  tier  above  tier,  just  large  enough  to  admit 
light  and  air  for  some  dormitory,  and  to  enable  its  occupant 
to  peep  out  at  the  sky.  Even  to  the  very  ridge  of  the  roof, 
may  be  seen  here  and  there  one  of  these  air-holes,  with  a  stove- 
pipe beside  it,  to  carry  off  the  smoke  from  the  handful  of  fuel 
with  which  its  weazen-faced  tenant  simmers  his  demi-tasse  of 
coffee. 

On  approaching  the  palace  from  the  Pont  Royal,  you  take  in 
at  a  glance  all  the  various  strata  of  inhabitants ;  the  garreteer 
in  the  roof ;  the  retainer  in  the  entresol ;  the  courtiers  at  the 
casements  of  the  royal  apartments ;  while  on  the  ground-floor 
a  steam  of  savory  odors  and  a  score  or  two  of  cooks,  in  white 
caps,  bobbing  their  heads  about  the  windows,  betray  that 
scientific  and  all-important  laboratory,  the  Royal  Kitchen. 

Go  into  the  grand  ante-chamber  of  the  royal  apartments  on 
Sunday  and  see  the  mixture  of  Old  and  New  France ;  the  old 
emigres,  returned  with  the  Bourbons ;  little  withered,  spindle- 
shanked  old  noblemen,  clad  in  court  dresses,  that  figured  in 
these  saloons  before  the  revolution,  and  have  been  carefully 
treasured  up  during  their  exile ;  with  the  solitaii^es  and  ailes  de 
pigeon  of  former  days ;  and  the  court  swords  strutting  out  be- 
hind, like  pins  stuck  through  dry  bettles.  See  them  haunting 
the  scenes  of  their  former  splendor,  in  hopes  of  a  restitution  of 
estates,  like  ghosts  haunting  the  vicinity  of  buried  treasure ; 
while  around  them  you  see  the  Young  France,  that  have  grown 
up  in  the  fighting  school  of  Napoleon ;  all  equipped  en  militaire; 
tall,  hardy,  frank,  vigorous,  sun-burned,  fierce-whiskered; 
with  tramping  boots,  towering  crests,  and  glittering  breast- 
plates. 

It  is  incredible  the  number  of  ancient  and  hereditary  feeders 
on  royalty  said  to  be  housed  in  this  establishment.  Indeed  all 
the  royal  palaces  abound  with  noble  families  returned  from 
exile,  and  who  have  nestling-places  allotted  them  while  they 
await  the  restoration  of  their  estates,  or  the  much-talked-of 


94 


Tllli  CRAVO^V  PAPERS. 


law,  indemnity.  Some  of  them  have  fine  quarters,  but  poor 
living.  Some  families  have  but  five  or  six  hundred  fi-ancs  a 
year,  and  all  their  retinue  consists  of  a  servant  woman.  With 
all  this,  they  maintain  their  old  aristocratical  hauteur^  look 
down  with  vast  contempt  upon  the  opulent  f  amihes  which  have 
risen  since  the  revolution ;  stigmatize  them  all  as  parvenus,  or 
upstai-ts,  and  refuse  to  visit  them. 

In  regarding  the  exterior  of  the  Tuileries,  with  all  its  out- 
ward signs  of  internal  populousness,  I  have  often  thought 
what  a  rare  sight  it  would  be  to  see  it  suddenly  unroofed,  and 
all  its  nooks  and  corners  laid  open  to  the  day.  It  would  be 
like  turning  up  the  stump  of  an  old  tree,  and  dislodging  the 
w^orld  of  grubs,  and  ants,  and  beetles  lodged  beneath.  Indeed 
there  is  a  scandalous  anecdote  current,  that  in  the  time  of  one 
of  the  petty  plots,  when  petards  were  exploded  under  the  win- 
dows of  the  Tuileries,  the  police  made  a  sudden  investigation 
of  the  palace  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  a  scene  of 
the  most  whimsical  confusion  ensued.  Hosts  of  supernume- 
rary inhabitants  were  found  foisted  into  the  huge  edifice; 
every  rat-hole  had  its  occupant;  and  places  which  had  been 
considered  as  tenanted  only  by  spiders,  were  found  crowded 
with  a  surreptitious  population.  It  is  added,  that  many  ludi- 
crous accidents  occurred ;  great  scampermg  and  slamming  of 
doors,  and  whisking  away  in  night-gowns  and  slippers;  and 
several  persons,  who  were  found  by  accident  in  their  neigh- 
bors' chambers,  evinced  indubitable  astonishment  at  the  cir- 
cumstance. 

As  I  have  fancied  I  could  read  the  French  character  in  the 
national  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  so  I  have  pictured  to  myself 
some  of  the  traits  of  John  Bull  in  his  royal  abode  of  Windsor 
Castle.  The  Tuileries,  outwardly  a  peaceful  palace,  is  in  effect 
a  swaggering  military  hold ;  while  the  old  castle,  on  the  con- 
trary, in  spite  of  its  bullying  look,  is  completely  under  petti- 
coat government.  Every  comer  and  nook  is  built  up  into 
some  snug,  cosy  nestling-place,  some  "procreant  cradle,"  not 
tenanted  by  meagre  expectants  or  whiskered  warriors,  but  by 
sleek  placemen;  knowing  reahzers  of  present  pay  and  present 
pudding;  who  seem  placed  there  not  to  kill  and  destroy,  but 
to  breed  and  multiply.  Nursery -maids  and  children  shine 
with  rosy  faces  at  the  windows,  and  swarm  about  the  courts 
and  terraces.  The  very  soldiers  have  a  pacific  look,  and  when 
off  duty  may  be  seen  loitering  about  the  place  with  the  nursery- 
maids ;  not  making  love  to  them  in  the  gay  gallant  style  of  tho 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


95 


French  soldiery,  but  with  infinite  bonhomie  aiding  them  to 
take  care  of  the  broods  of  children. 

Though  the  old  castle  is  in  decay,  everything  about  it  thrives ; 
the  very  crevices  of  the  walls  are  tenanted  by  swallows,  rooks, 
and  pigeons,  all  sure  of  quiet  lodgment;  the  ivy  strikes  its 
roots  deep  in  the  fissures,  and  flourishes  about  the  mouldering 
tower.*  Thus  it  is  with  honest  John;  according  to  his  own 
account,  he  is  ever  going  to  ruin,  yet  everything  that  hves  on 
him,  thrives  and  waxes  fat.  He  would  fain  be  a  soldier,  and 
swagger  lilie  his  neighbors;  but  his  domestic,  quiet-loving, 
uxorious  nature  continually  gets  the  upper  hand ;  and  though 
he  may  mount  his  helmet  and  gird  on  his  sword,  yet  he  is  apt 
to  sink  into  the  plodding,  pains-taking  father  of  a  family ;  with 
a  troop  of  children  at  his  heels,  and  his  women-kind  hanging 
on  each  arm. 

TUE  FIELD  OF  WATERLOO. 

I  HAVE  spoken  heretofore  with  some  levity  of  the  contrast 
that  exists  between  the  English  and  French  character ;  but  it 
deserves  more  serious  consideration.  They  are  the  two  great 
nations  of  modern  times  most  diametrically  opposed,  and  most 
worthy  of  each  other's  rivalry;  essentially  distinct  in  their 
characters,  excelling  in  opposite  qualities,  and  reflecting  lustre 
on  each  other  by  their  very  opposition.  In  nothing  is  this  con- 
trast more  strikingly  evinced  than  in  their  military  conduct. 
For  ages  have  they  been  contending,  and  for  ages  ha.ve  they 
crowded  each  other's  history  with  acts  of  splendid  heroism. 
Take  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  for  instance,  the  last  and  most 
memorable  trial  of  their  rival  prowess.  Nothing  could  surpass 
the  briUiant  daring  on  the  one  side,  and  the  steadfast  enduring 
on  the  other.  The  French  cavalry  broke  like  waves  on  the 
compact  squares  of  English  infantry.  They  were  seen  gallop- 
ing round  those  serried  walls  of  men,  seeking  in  vain  for  an 
entrance;  tossing  their  arms  in  the  air,  in  the  heat  of  their 
enthusiasm,  and  braving  the  whole  front  of  battle.  The 
British  troops,  on  the  other  hand,  forbidden  to  move  or  fire, 
stood  firm  and  enduring.  Their  columns  were  ripped  up  by 
cannonry;  whole  rows  were  swept  down  at  a  shot;  the  sm^- 
vivors  closed  their  ranks,  and  stood  firm.    In  this  way  many 


*  The  above  sketch  was  written  before  the  thorough  repairs  and  magnificent 
additions  that  have  been  made  of  late  years  to  Windsor  Castle, 


96 


THE  CRAYON  PAPKLIS. 


columns  stood  through  the  pelting  of  the  iron  tempest  without 
firing  a  shot ;  without  any  action  to  stir  theii*  blood,  or  excite 
their  spirits.  Death  thinned  their  ranks,  but  could  not  shake 
their  souls. 

A  beautiful  mstance  of  the  quick  and  generous  impulses  to 
which  the  French  are  prone,  is  given  in  the  case  of  a  French 
cavalier,  in  the  hottest  of  the  action,  charging  furiously  upon  a 
British  officer,  but  percei\^ng  in  the  moment  of  assault  that  Ins 
adversary  had  lost  his  sword-arm,  dropping  the  point  of  liis 
sabre,  and  courteously  riding  on.  Peace  be  with  that  generous 
warrior,  whatever  were  his  fate!  If  lie  went  down  in  the 
storm  of  battle,  with  the  foundering  fortunes  of  his  chieftain, 
may  the  turf  of  Waterloo  grow  green  above  liis  grave  I  and 
happier  far  would  be  the  fate  of  such  a  spirit,  to  sink  amid  the 
tempest,  unconscious  of  defeat,  than  to  survive,  and  mourn 
over  the  bhghted  laurels  of  his  country-. 

In  tliis  way  the  two  armies  fought  through  a  long  and  bloody 
day.  The  French  with  enthusiastic  valor,  the  Enghsh  ^vith 
cool,  inflexible  coui-age,  until  Fate,  as  if  to  leave  the  question 
of  superiority  still  undecided  between  two  such  adversaries, 
brought  up  the  Prussians  to  decide  the  fortunes  of  the  field. 

It  was  several  years  afterward  that  I  ^-isited  the  field  of 
Waterloo.  The  ploughshare  had  been  busy  with  its  obhvious 
labors,  and  the  frequent  harvest  had  nearly  obliterated  the 
vestiges  of  war.  StiU  the  blackened  ruins  of  Iloguemont  stood, 
a  monumental  pile,  to  mark  the  violence  of  this  vehement 
struggle.  Its  broken  walls,  pierced  by  bullets,  and  shattered 
by  explosions,  showed  the  deadly  strife  that  had  taken  place 
within;  when  Gaul  and  Briton,  hemmed  in  betAveen  narrow 
walls,  hand  to  hand  and  foot  to  foot,  foug'lit  from  garden  to 
court-yard,  from  court-yard  to  chamber,  with  intense  and  con- 
centrated rivalshiiD.  Columns  of  smoke  towered  from  this 
vort?x  of  battle  as  from  a  volcano:  "it  was,"  said  my  guide, 
"like  a  little  hell  upon  earth."  Not  far  off,  two  or  three  broad 
spots  of  rank,  unwholesome  green  still  marked  the  places 
where  these  rival  warriors,  after  their  fierce  and  fitful  struggle, 
slept  quietly  together  in  the  lap  of  their  common  mother  earth. 
Over  all  the  rest  of  the  field  peace  had  resumed  its  sway.  The 
thoughtless  whistle  of  the  peasant  floated  on  the  air,  instead  of 
the  trumpet's  clangor ;  the  team  slowly  labored  up  the  hiU-side, 
once  shaken  by  the  hoofs  of  mshmg  squadrons ;  and  ^vild  fields 
of  corn  waved  peacefully  over  the  soldiers'  graves,  as  summer 
8eas  dimple  over  the  place  where  many  a  tall  ship  lies  buried. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825. 


97 


To  the  foregoing  desultory  notes  on  the  French  military- 
character,  let  me  append  a  few  traits  which  I  picked  up  ver- 
bally in  one  of  the  1^  rench  provinces.  They  may  have  already 
appeared  in  print,  but  I  have  never  met  with  them. 

At  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolution,  when  so  many  of  the 
old  families  emigrated,  a  descendant  of  the  great  Turenne,  by 
the  name  of  De  Latour  D'Auvergne,  refused  to  accompany  his 
relations,  and  entered  into  the  Republican  army.  He  served 
in  all  the  campaigns  of  the  revolution,  distinguished  himself 
by  his  valor,  his  accomplishments,  and  his  generous  spirit,  and 
might  have  risen  to  fortune  and  to  the  highest  honors.  He 
refused,  however,  all  rank  in  the  army,  above  that  of  captain, 
and  would  receive  no  recompense  for  his  achievements  but  a 
sw^ord  of  honor.  Napoleon,  in  testimony  of  his  merits,  gave 
him  the  title  of  Premier  Grenadier  de  France  (First  Grenadier 
of  France),  which  was  the  only  title  he  would  ever  bear.  He 
was  killed  in  Germany,  in  1809  or  '10.  To  honor  his  memory, 
his  place  was  always  retained  in  his  regiment,  as  if  he  still  oc- 
cupied it ;  and  whenever  the  regiment  was  mustered,  and  the 
name  of  De  Latour  D'Auvergne  was  called  out,  the  reply  was, 
' '  Dead  on  the  field  of  honor !" 

PARIS  AT  THE  RESTORATION. 

Paris  presented  a  singular  aspect  just  after  the  downfall  of 
Napoleon,  and  the  restoration  of  the  Boiu^bons.  It  was  filled 
with  a  restless,  roaming  population;  a  dark,  sallow  race,  with 
fierce  moustaches,  black  cravats,  and  feverish,  menacing 
looks ;  men  suddenly  thrown  out  of  employ  by  the  return  of 
peace;  officers  cut  short  in  their  career,  and  cast  loose  with 
scanty  means,  many  of  them  in  utter  indigence,  upon  the 
world;  the  broken  elements  of  armies.  They  haimted  the 
places  of  public  resort,  like  restless,  unhappy  spirits,  taking 
no  pleasure;  hanging  about,  Uke  lowering  clouds  that  linger 
after  a  storm,  and  giving  a  smgular  air  of  gloom  to  this  other- 
wise gay  metropolis. 

The  vaunted  courtesy  of  the  old  school,  the  smooth  urbanity 
that  prevailed  m  former  days  of  settled  government  and  long- 
estabhshed  aristocracy,  had  disappeared  amid  the  savage  re- 
publicamsm  of  the  revolution  and  the  mihtarj^  furor  of  the 
empire ;  recent  reverses  had  stung  the  national  vanity  to  the 
quick;  and  English  travellers,  who  crowded  to  Paris  on  the 
return  of  peace,  expecting  to  meet  with  a  gay,  good-himiored, 


98 


THE  CRA  TON  PA  PKRS. 


complaisant  populace,  such  as  existed  in  the  time  of  the  "  Sen- 
timental Journey,"  were  sui-prised  at  finding  them  irritable 
and  fractious,  quick  at  fancying  affronts,  and  not  unapt  to 
offer  insults.  They  accordingly  inveighed  with  heat  and  bit- 
terness at  the  rudeness  they  experienced  in  the  French 
metropoHs;  yet  what  better  had  they  to  expect?  Had  Charles 
II.  been  reinstated  in  his  kingdom  by  the  valor  of  French 
troops;  had  he  been  wheeled  triumphantly  to  London  over 
the  trampled  bodies  and  trampled  standards  of  England's 
bravest  sons;  had  a  French  general  dictated  to  the  Enghsh 
capital,  and  a  French  army  been  quartered  in  Hyde-Park ;  had 
Paris  poured  forth  its  motley  population,  and  the  wealthy 
bourgeoisie  of  every  French  trading  town  swarmed  to  London ; 
crowding  its  squares ;  fiUing  its  streets  with  their  equipages ; 
thronging  its  fashionable  hotels,  and  places  of  amusements; 
elbowing  its  impoverished  nobihty  out  of  their  palaces  and 
opera-boxes,  and  looking  down  on  the  humiliated  inhabitants 
as  a  conquered  people ;  in  such  a  reverse  of  the  case,  what  degree 
of  courtesy  Avould  the  populace  of  London  have  been  apt  to 
exercise  toward  their  visitors?  * 

On  the  contrary,  I  have  always  admired  the  degree  of  mag- 
nanimity exhibited  by  the  French  on  the  occupation  of  their 
capital  by  the  Enghsh.  Wlien  we  consider  the  mihtary  ambi- 
tion of  this  nation,  its  love  of  glory;  the  splendid  heic^ht  to 
which  its  renown  in  arms  had  recently  been  carried,  and  with 
these,  the  tremendous  reverses  it  had  just  undergone;  its 
armies  shattered,  annihilated ;  its  capital  captured,  garrisoned, 
and  overrun,  and  that  too  by  its  ancient  rival,  the  English, 
toward  whom  it  had  cherished  for  centuries  a  jealous  and 
almost  religious  hostihty ;  could  we  have  wondered  if  the  tiger 
spirit  of  this  fiery  people  had  broken  out  in  bloody  feuds  and 
deadly  quarrels ;  and  that  they  had  sought  to  rid  themselves 
in  any  way  of  their  invaders?  But  it  is  cowardly  nations  only, 
those  who  dare  not  Avield  the  sword,  that  revenge  themselves 
with  the  lurking  dagger.  There  were  no  assassinations  in 
Paris,  The  French  had  fought  vahantly,  desperately,  in  the 
field ;  but,  when  valor  was  no  longer  of  avail,  they  submitted 
like  gallant  men  to  a  fate  they  could  not  withstand.  Some  in- 
stances of  insult  from  the  populace  were  experienced  by  their 


*  Tlie  above  remarks  were  suggested  by  a  conversation  with  the  late  Mr.  Can- 
ning, whom  the  author  met  in  Paris,  and  who  expressed  himself  in  the  most  liberal 
•way  concerning  the  magnanimity  of  the  French  on  the  occupation  of  their  capital 
by  strangers. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  3835. 


99 


English  visitors ;  some  pei-sonal  rencontres,  which  led  to  duels, 
did  take  place ;  but  these  smacked  of  open  and  honorable  hos- 
tility. No  instances  of  lurking  and  perfidious  revenge  oc- 
curred, and  the  British  soldier  patrolled  the  streets  of  Paris 
safe  from  treacherous  assault. 

If  the  Enghsh  met  with  harshness  and  repulse  in  social  inter- 
course, it  was  in  some  degi-ee  a  proof  that  the  people  are  more 
sincere  than  has  been  represented.  The  emigi-ants  who  had 
just  returned,  were  not  yet  reinstated.  Society  was  constituted 
of  those  who  had  flourished  under  the  late  regime ;  the  newly 
ennobled,  the  recently  enriched,  who  felt  theu*  prosperity  and 
their  consequence  endangered  by  this  change  of  things.  The 
broken-down  officer,  who  saw  his  glory  tarnished,  liis  fortune 
ruined,  his  occupation  gone,  could  not  be  expected  to  look  with 
complacency  upon  the  authors  of  Ms  downfall.  The  English 
visitor,  flushed.  Avith  health,  and  wealth,  and  victory,  could 
little  enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  blighted  warrior,  scarred 
with  a  hundred  battles,  an  exile  from  the  camp,  broken  in  con- 
stitution by  the  wars,  impoverished  by  the  peace,  and  cast 
back,  a  needy  stranger  in  the  splendid  but  captured  metropohs 
of  his  country. 

"  Oh !  who  can  tell  what  heroes  feel. 
When  all  but  life  and  honor's  lost!" 

And  here  let  me  notice  the  conduct  of  the  French  soldiery 
on  the  dismemberment  of  the  army  of  the  Loire,  when  two 
hundred  thousand  men  were  suddenly  thrown  out  of  employ ; 
men  who  had  been  brought  up  to  the  camp,  and  scarce  knew 
any  other  home.  Few  in  civil,  peaceful  life,  are  aware  of  the 
severe  trial  to  the  feehngs  that  takes  place  on  the  dissolution 
of  a  regiment.  There  is  a  fraternity  in  arms.  The  commimity 
of  dangers,  hardsliips,  enjoyments;  the  participation  in  battles 
and  victories:  the  companionship  in  adventures,  at  a  time  of 
life  when  men's  feelings  are  most  fresh,  susceptible,  and  ardent, 
all  these  bind  the  members  of  a  regiment  strongly  together. 
To  them  the  re^ment  is  friends,  family,  home.  They  identify 
themselves  with  its  fortunes,  its  glories,  its  disgraces.  Imagine 
this  romantic  tie  suddenly  dissolved;  the  regiment  broken  up; 
the  occupation  of  its  members  gone ;  their  military  pride  mor- 
tified ;  the  career  of  glory  closed  behind  them ;  that  of  obscurity, 
dependence,  want,  neglect,  perhaps  beggary,  before  them. 
Such  was  the  case  with  the  soldiers  of  the  Army  of  the  Loire. 
Thev  were  sent  off  in  souads.  with  officers,  to  the  principnj 


100 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


towiis  where  they  were  to  be  disarmed  and  discharged.  In 
this  way  they  passed  through  the  country  with  arms  in  their 
hands,  often  exposed  to  shghts  and  scoffs,  to  hunger  and  vari- 
ous hardships  and  privations ;  but  they  conducted  themselves 
magnanimously,  without  any  of  those  outbreaks  of  violence 
and  wrong  that  so  often  attend  the  dismemberment  of  armies. 


The  few  years  that  have  elapsed  since  the  tune  above  alluded 
to,  have  already  had  their  effect.  The  proud  and  angry  spirits 
which  then  roamed  about  Paris  unemployed  have  cooled  down 
and  found  occupation.  The  national  character  begins  to  re- 
cover its  old  channels,  though  worn  deeper  by  recent  torrents. 
The  natural  urbanity  of  the  French  begins  to  find  its  way,  like 
oil,  to  the  surface,  though  there  still  remains  a  degree  of  rough- 
ness and  bluntness  of  manner,  partly  real,  and  partly  affected, 
by  such  as  miagine  it  to  indicate  force  and  frankness.  The 
events  of  the  last  thirty  years  have  rendered  the  French  a 
more  reflecting  people.  They  have  acquired  greater  indepen- 
dence of  mind  and  strength  of  judgment,  together  with  a  por- 
tion of  that  prudence  which  results  from  experiencing  tlic 
dangerous  consequences  of  excesses.  However  that  period 
may  have  been  stained  by  crimes,  and  filled  with  extrava- 
gances, the  French  have  certainly  come  out  of  it  a  greater 
nation  than  before.  One  of  their  own  philosophers  observes 
that  in  one  or  two  generations  the  nation  will  probably  com- 
bine the  ease  and  elegance  of  the  old  character  with  force  and 
solidity.  They  were  light,  he  says,  before  the  revolution ;  then 
wild  and  savage;  they  have  become  more  thoughtful  and  re- 
flective. It  is  only  old  Frenchmen,  now-a-days,  that  are  gay 
and  trivial;  the  young  are  very  serious  personages. 


P.S.  In  the  course  of  a  morning's  walk,  about  the  time  the 
above  remarks  were  written,  I  observed  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
who  was  on  a  brief  visit  to  Paris.  He  was  alone,  simply  attired 
in  a  blue  frock ;  with  an  umbrella  under  his  arm,  and  his  hat 
drawn  over  his  eyes,  and  sauntering  across  the  Place  Ven- 
dome,  close  by  the  Column  of  Napoleon.  He  gave  a  glance  up 
at  the  column  as  he  passed,  and  continued  his  loitering  way  up 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix ;  stopping  occasionally  to  gaze  in  at  the 
shop-windows;  elbowed  now  and  then  by  other  gazers,  who 
little  suspected  that  the  quiet,  lounging  individual  they  were 
jostling  so  unceremoniously,  was  the  conqueror  who  had  twice 


AMERICAN  lUmKAECIIKS  IN  IT  ALT. 


101 


entered  the  capital  victoriously ;  had  controlled  the  destinies 
of  the  nation,  and  eclipsed  the  glory  of  the  military  idol,  at  the 
base  of  whose  column  he  was  thus  negligently  sauntering. 

Some  years  afterward  I  was  at  an  evening's  entertainment 
given  by  the  Duke  at  Apsley  House,  to  William  IV.  The  Duke 
had  manifested  his  admiration  of  his  great  adversary,  by 
having  portraits  of  him  in  different  parts  of  the  house.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  grand  staircase,  stood  the  colossal  statue  of 
the  Emperor,  by  Canova.  It  was  of  marble,  in  the  antique 
style,  with  one  arm  partly  extended,  holding  a  figure  of  vic- 
tory. Over  this  arm  the  ladies,  in  tripping  up  stairs  to  the 
ball,  had  thrown  their  shawls.  It  was  a  singular  office  for  the 
statue  of  Napoleon  to  perform  in  the  mansion  of  the  Duke  of 
Welhngton ! 

"  Imperial  Csesar  dead,  aud  turned  to  clay,"  etc.,  etc. 


AMERICAN  RESEARCHES  IN  ITALY. 

LIFE  OF  TASSO:  RECOVERY  OF  A  LOST  PORTRAIT  OF  DANTE. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Knickerhocker: 

Sir  :  Permit  me  through  tlie  pages  of  your  magazine  to  call 
the  attention  of  the  public  to  the  learned  and  elegant  re- 
searches in  Europe  of  one  of  our  countrymen,  Mr.  R.  H. 
Wilde,  of  Georgia,  formerly  a  member  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. After  leaving  Congress,  Mr.  Wilde  a  few  years 
since  spent  about  eighteen  months  in  travelling  through  differ- 
ent parts  of  Europe,  until  he  became  stationary  for  a  time  in 
Tuscany.  Here  he  occupied  himself  with  researches  concern- 
ing the  private  life  of  Tasso,  whose  mysterious  and  romantic 
love  for  the  Princess  Leonora,  his  madness  and  imprisonment, 
had  recently  become  the  theme  of  a  literary  controversy,  not 
yet  ended ;  curious  in  itself,  and  rendered  still  more  curious  by 
some  alleged  manuscripts  of  the  poet's,  brought  forward  by 
Count  Alberti.  Mr.  Wilde  entered  into  the  investigation  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  poet,  and  the  patience  and  accuracy  of  a 
case-hunter;  and  has  produced  a  work  now  in  the  press,  in 
which  the  "  vexed  questions"  concerning  Tasso  are  most  ably 
discussed,  and  lights  thrown  upon  them  by  his  letters,  and  by 
varicnis  of  his  sonnets,  which  last  are  rendered  into  English 


102 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


with  rare  felicity.  While  Mr.  Wilde  was  occupied  upon  this 
work,  he  becarae  acquainted  with  Signor  Carlo  Liverati,  an 
artist  of  considerable  merit,  and  especially  well  versed  in  the 
antiquities  of  Florence.  This  gentleman  mentioned  inciden- 
tally one  day,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that  there  once 
and  probably  still  existed  in  the  Bargello,  anciently  both  the 
prison  and  the  palace  of  the  republic,  an  authentic  portrait  of 
Dante.  It  was  beheved  to  be  in  fresco,  on  a  wall  wliich  after^ 
ward,  by  some  strange  neglect  or  inadvertency,  had  been  cov- 
ered with  whitewash.  Signor  Liverati  mentioned  the  cii'cmn  ■ 
stance  merely  to  deplore  the  loss  of  so  precious  a  portrait,  and 
to  regret  the  almost  utter  hopelessness  of  its  recovery. 

As  Mr.  Wilde  had  not  as  yet  imbibed  that  enthusiastic 
admu-ation  for  Dante  which  possesses  all  Itahans,  by  whom 
the  poet  is  almost  worshipped,  this  conversation  made  but  a 
slight  impression  on  him  at  the  time.  Subsequent]}^,  how- 
ever, hiS  researches  concerning  Tasso  bemg  ended,  he  began 
to  amuse  his  leisure  hours  with  attempts  to  translate  some 
specimens  of  Italian  lyric  poetry,  and  to  compose  very  short 
biographical  sketches  of  the  authors.  In  these  specunens, 
wliich  as  yet  exist  only  in  manuscript,  he  has  shown  the  same 
critical  knowledge  of  the  Itahan  language,  and  admirable 
command  of  the  English,  that  characterize  his  translations 
of  Tasso.  He  had  not  advanced  far  in  these  exercises,  when 
the  obscure  and  contradictory  accounts  of  many  incidents  in 
the  hfe  of  Dante  caused  him  much  embarrassment,  and 
sorely  piqued  his  curiosity.  About  the  same  time  he  received, 
through  the  com'tesy  of  Don  Neri  dei  Principi  Corsini,  what 
he  had  long  most  fervently  desired,  a  permission  from  the 
Grand  Duke  to  pursue  his  investigations  in  the  secret  archives 
of  Florence,  Avith  power  to  obtain  copies  therefrom.  This  was 
a  rich  and  almost  unwrought  mine  of  hterary  research;  for  to 
Italians  themselves,  as  well  as  to  foreigners,  their  archives  for 
the  most  part  have  been  long  inaccessible.  For  two  years 
Mr.  Wilde  devoted  himself  with  indefatigable  ardor  to  ex- 
plore the  records  of  the  republic  during  the  time  of  Dante. 
These  being  wi-itten  in  barbarous  Latin  and  semi-Gothic 
characters,  on  parchment  more  or  less  discolored  and  muti- 
lated, with  ink  sometimes  faded,  were  rendered  still  more 
illegible  by  the  arbitrary  abbreviations  of  the  notaries.  They 
require,  m  fact,  an  especial  study;  few  even  of  the  officers 
employed  m  the  Archivio  delle  Eifonnagione^^  can  read  them 
currently  and  correctly. 


AMERICAN  RESEAnCIIES  JX  ITALY. 


103 


Mr.  Wildo  however  persevered  in  his  laborious  task  v/ith 
a  patience  severely  tried,  but  invincible.  Being  vvdthout  ap 
index,  each  file,  each  book,  requii-ed  to  be  examined  page  by 
page,  to  ascertain  whether  any  particular  of  the  immort^il 
po(;t's  political  life  had  escaped  the  untiring  industry  of  his 
coiuitrymen.  This  toil  was  not  wholly  fruitless,  and  several 
interesting  facts  obscurely  known,  and  others  utterly  un 
known  by  the  Italians  themselves,  are  drawn  fortli  by  Mr. 
Wilde  from  the  oblivion  of  these  ai'chives. 

While  thus  engaged,  the  ciicumstance  of  the  lost  portrait 
of  Dante  was  again  brought  to  Mr.  Wilde's  mind,  but  now 
excited  intense  interest.  In  perusing  the  notes  of  the  late 
kiarned  Canonico  Moreri  on  Filelfo's  life  of  Dante,  he  found 
it  stated  that  a  portrait  of  the  poet  by  Giotto  was  formerly 
to  be  seen  in  the  BargeUo.  He  learned  also  that  Sigiior 
Scotti,  who  has  charge  of  the  original  drawings  of  the  old 
masters  in  the  imperial  and  royal  gallery,  had  made  several 
years  previously  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  set  on  foot  a  project 
for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  treasure.  Here  was  a  new  vein 
of  inquiry,  which  ^Ir.  Wilde  followed  up  with  his  usual  energy 
and  sagacity.  He  soon  satisfied  himseK,  by  reference  to 
Vasari,  and  to  the  still  mxore  ancient  and  decisive  authority 
of  Filippo  Villari,  v/ho  hved  shortly  after  the  poet,  that  Giotto, 
the  friend  and  contemporary  of  Dante,  did  undoubtedly  paint 
his  likeness  in  the  place  indicated.  Giotto  died  in  1336,  but 
as  Dante  was  banished,  and  was  even  sentenced  to  be  burned, 
in  1302,  it  was  obvious  the  work  must  have  been  executed 
before  that  time ;  since  the  portrait  of  one  outlawed  and  capi- 
tally convicted  as  an  enemy  to  the  commonwealth  would 
never  have  been  ordered  or  tolerated  in  the  chapel  of  the 
royal  palace.  It  was  clear,  then,  that  the  portrait  must  have 
been  painted  between  1290  and  1302. 

Mr.  Wilde  now  revolved  in  his  own  mind  the  possibihty 
that  this  precious  rehc  might  remain  undestroyed  under  its 
coat  of  whitewash,  and  might  yet  be  restored  to  the  world. 
For  a  momxcnt  he  felt  an  impulse  to  undertake  the  enterprise ; 
but  feared  that,  in  a  foreigner  from  a  new  world,  any  part  of 
which  is  unrepresented  at  the  Tuscan  court,  it  might  appear 
like  an  intrusion.  He  soon  however  found  a  zealous  coadjutor. 
This  was  one  Giovanni  Aubrey  Bezzi,  a  Piedmontese  exile, 
who  had  long  been  a  resident  in  England,  and  was  familiar 
with  its  language  and  literature.  He  was  now  on  a  visit  to 
Florence,  which  liberal  and  hospitable  city  is  always  open  to 


104 


77/ A'  CllAYOX  PAPhTiS. 


men  of  merit  who  for  political  reasons  have  been  excluded 
from  other  parts  of  Italy.  Signor  Bezzi  partook  deeply  of  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  countrymen  for  the  memory  of  Dante,  and 
sympathized  with  Mr.  Wilde  in  his  eagerness  to  retrieve  if  pos- 
sible the  lost  portrait.  They  had  several  consultations  as  to 
the  means  to  be  adopted  to  effect  their  purpose,  without  in- 
curring the  charge  of  undue  officiousness.  To  lessen  any  ob- 
jections that  might  occur,  they  resolved  to  ask  for  nothing  but 
permission  to  search  for  the  fresco  painting  at  their  own  ex- 
pense ;  and  should  any  remains  of  it  be  found,  then  to  propose 
to  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Florence  an  association  for  the 
purpose  of  completing  the  undertaking,  and  effectually  recover-, 
ing  the  lost  portrait. 

For  the  same  reason  the  formal  memorial  addressed  to  the 
Grand  Duke  was  drawn  up  in  the  name  of  Florentines ;  among 
whom  were  the  celebrated  Bartolini,  now  President  of  the 
School  of  Sculpture  in  the  Imperial  and  Royal  Academy,  Sig- 
nor Paolo  Ferroni,  of  the  noble  family  of  that  name,  who  has 
exhibited  considerable  talent  for  painting,  and  Sig-nor  Gas- 
parini,  also  an  artist.  This  petition  was  urged  and  supported 
with  indefatigable  zeal  by  Signor  Bezzi;  and  being  warmly 
countenanced  by  Count  Nerli  and  other  functionaries,  met 
with  more  prompt  success  than  had  been  anticipated.  Signor 
Marini,  a  skiKul  artist,  who  had  succeeded  in  similar  opera- 
tions, was  now  employed  to  remove  the  whitewash  by  a  pro- 
cess of  his  own,  by  which  any  fresco  painting  that  might  exist 
beneath  would  be  protected  from  injury.  He  set  to  work 
patiently  and  cautiously.  In  a  short  time  he  met  with  evi- 
dence of  the  existence  of  the  fresco.  From  under  the  coat 
of  whitewash  the  head  of  an  angel  gradually  made  its  appear- 
ance, and  was  pronounced  to  be  by  the  pencil  of  Giotto. 

The  enterprise  was  now  prosecuted  with  increased  ardor. 
Several  months  were  expended  on  the  task,  and  three  sides 
of  the  chapel  wall  were  uncovered ;  they  were  all  painted  in  ' 
fresco  by  Giotto,  with  the  history  of  the  Magdalen,  exhibiting 
her  conversion,  her  penance,  and  her  beatification.  The  fig- 
ures, however,  were  all  those  of  saints  and  angels ;  no  histori- 
cal portraits  had  yet  been  discovered,  and  doubts  began  to 
be  entertained  whether  there  were  any.  Still  the  recovery 
of  an  indisputable  work  of  Giotto's  was  considered  an  ample 
reward  for  any  toil;  and  the  Ministers  of  the  Grand  Duke, 
acting  under  his  directions,  assumed  on  his  behalf  the  past 
charges  and  future  management  of  the  enterprise. 


AMEllICAN  llE^'iE Alien ES  IN  ITALY. 


105 


At  length,  on  the  uncovering  of  the  fourth  wall,  the  under- 
taking ^vas  crowned  with  complete  success.  A  number  of 
historical  figures  were  brought  to  light,  and  among  them  the 
aiidoubted  likeness  of  Dante.  He  was  represented  in  full 
leng-th,  in  the  garb  of  the  tune,  with  a  book  under  his  arm, 
designed  most  probably  to  represent  the  "Vita  Nuova,"  for 
the  "  Comedia"  Avas  not  yet  composed,  and  to  all  appearance 
from  thirty  to  thirty-five  years  of  age.  The  face  was  in  profile, 
and  in  excellent  preservation,  excepting  that  at  some  former 
period  a  nail  had  unfortunately  been  driven  into  the  eye.  The 
outline  of  the  eyelid  was  perfect,  so  that  the  injury  could 
easily  be  remedied.  The  countenance  was  extremely  hand- 
some, yet  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  portraits  of  the 
poet  taken  later  in  life. 

It  is  not  easy  to  appreciate  the  delight  of  Mr.  Wilde  and  his 
coadjutors  at  this  triumphant  result  of  their  researches;  nor 
the  sensation  produced,  not  merely  in  Florence  but  throughout 
Italy,  by  this  discovery  of  a  veritable  portrait  of  Dant6,  in  the 
prime  of  his  days.  It  was  some  such  sensation  as  would  be 
produced  in  England  by  the  sudden  discovery  of  a  perfectly 
well  authenticated  likeness  of  Shakespeare ;  with  a  difference 
in  intensity  proportioned  to  the  superior  sensitiveness  of  the 
Italians. 

The  recovery  of  this  portrait  of  the  "divine  poet"  has  occa.- 
sioncd  fresh  inquiry  into  the  origin  of  the  masks  said  to  have 
been  made  fi'om  a  cast  of  his  face  taken  after  death.  One  of 
these  masks,  in  the  possession  of  the  Marquess  of  Torrigiani, 
has  been  pronounced  as  certainly  the  original.  Several  artists 
of  high  talent  have  concurred  in  this  opinion;  among  these 
may  be  named  Jesi,  the  first  engraver  in  Florence ;  Seymour 
Kirkup,  Esq. ,  a  painter  and  antiquary ;  and  our  own  country- 
man Powers,  whose  genius,  by  the  way,  is  very  highly  appre- 
ciated by  the  Italians. 

We  may  expect  from  the  accomplished  pen  of  Carlo  Torrigi- 
ani, son  of  the  Marquess,  and  who  is  advantageously  known  in 
this  country,  from  having  travelled  here,  an  account  of  this 
dubious  and  valuable  relic,  which  has  been  upward  of  a  century 
in  the  possession  of  his  family. 

Should  Mr.  Wilde  finish  his  biographical  work  concerning 
Dante,  w^hich  promises  to  be  a  proud  achievement  in  American 
literature,  he  intends,  I  understand,  to  apply  for  permission  to 
have  both  likenesses  copied,  and  should  circumstances  warrant 
the  expense,  to  have  them  engi^aved  by  eminent  artists.  We 


106 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


shall  then  have  the  features  of  Dante  while  in  the  prime  of  life 
as  well  as  at  the  moment  of  his  death.  G.  C. 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  personages  in  Parisian  society 
during  the  last  century  was  Renee  Charlotte  Victoire  de  Frou- 
lay  De  Tesse,  Marchioness  De  Crequi.  She  sprang  from  the 
highest  and  proudest  of  the  old  French  nobility,  and  ever 
maintained  the  most  exalted  notions  of  the  purity  and  anti- 
quity of  blood,  looking  upon  all  families  that  could  not  date 
back  further  than  three  or  four  hundred  years  as  mere  up- 
starts. When  a  beautifid  girl,  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  was 
presented  to  Louis  XIV. ,  at  Versailles,  and  the  ancient  mon- 
arch kissed  her  hand  with  great  gallantry ;  after  an  interval  of 
about  eighty-five  years,  when  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  the 
same  testimonial  of  respect  was  paid  her  at  the  TuHeries  by 
Bonaparte,  then  First  Consul,  who  promised  her  the  restitution 
of  the  confiscated  forests  formerly  belonging  to  her  famOj". 
She  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  women  of  her  time  for  in- 
tellectual grace  and  superiority,  and  had  the  courage  to  remain 
at  Paris  and  brave  all  the  horrors  of  the  revolution,  which  laid 
waste  the  aristocratical  world  around  her. 

The  memoirs  she  has  left  behind  abound  with  curious  anec- 
dotes and  vivid  pictures  of  Parisian  hfe  diu-ing  the  latter  daj's 
of  Louis  XIV.,  the  regency  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the 
residue  of  the  last  century ;  and  are  highly  illustrative  of  the 
pride,  splendor,  and  licentiousness  of  the  French  nobility  on 
the  very  eve  of  their  tremendous  downfall. 

I  shall  draw  forth  a  few  scenes  from  her  memoii'S,  taken 
almost  at  random,  and  which,  though  given  as  actual  and  well- 
kno'ATi  circumstances,  have  quite  the  air  of  romance. 


All  the  great  world  of  Paris  were  invited  to  be  present  at  a 
grand  ceremonial,  to  take  place  in  the  church  of  the  Abbey 
Royal  of  Panthemont.  Henrietta  de  Lenoncour,  a  young  girl, 
of  a  noble  family,  of  great  beauty,  and  heiress  to  immense 
estates,  was  to  take  the  black  veil.  Invitations  had  been  issued 
in  grand  form,  by  her  aunt  and  guardian,  the  Countess  Brigitte 


27//^  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL. 


107 


de  Eupclmondo,  canoness  of  Mauberge.  The  circumstance 
caused  great  talk  and  wonder  in  the  fashionable  circles  of 
Paris ;  everybody  was  at  a  loss  to  imagine  why  a  young  girl, 
beautiful  and  rich,  in  the  very  springtime  of  her  charms, 
should  renounce  a  world  which  she  was  so  eminently  qualiiied 
to  embellish  and  enjoy. 

A  lady  ol  high  rank,  who  visited  the  beautiful  novice  at  the 
grate  of  her  convent-parlor,  got  a  clue  to  the  mystery.  She 
found  her  in  great  agitation ;  for  a  time  she  evidently  repressed 
her  feelings,  but  they  at  length  broke  forth  in  passionate  ex- 
clamations. ' '  Heaven  grant  me  grace, "  said  she,  ' '  some  day 
or  other  to  pardon  my  cousin  Gondrecourt  the  sorrows  he  has 
caused  me  I" 

"What  do  you  mean?— what  sorrows,  my  child?"  inquired 
her  visitor.    "  What  has  your  cousin  done  to  affect  you?" 

"He  is  married!"  cried  she  in  accents  of  despau,  but  endea- 
voring to  repress  her  sobs. 

"  Married !  I  have  heard  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear.  Are 
you  perfectly  sure  of  it?" 

"Alas!  nothing  is  more  certain;  my  aunt  de  Rupelmonde  in- 
formed me  of  it." 

The  lady  retired,  full  of  surprise  and  commiseration.  She 
related  the  scene  in  a  circle  of  the  highest  nobihty,  in  the 
saloon  of  the  Marshal  Prince  of  Beauvau,  where  the  unac- 
countable self-sacrifice  of  the  beautiful  novice  was  imder 
discussion. 

"Alas!"  said  she,  "the  poor  girl  is  crossed  in  love;  she  is 
about  to  renoimce  the  world  in  despair,  at  the  marriage  of  her 
cousin  De  Gondrecourt." 

"Vv^hat!"  cried  a  gentleman  present,  "the  Viscount  de 
Gondrecourt  married!  Never  was  there  a  greater  falsehood. 
And  '  her  aunt  told  her  so ! '  Oh !  I  understand  the  plot.  The 
countess  is  passionately  fond  of  Gondrecourt,  and  jealous  of 
her  beautiful  niece ;  but  her  schemes  are  vain ;  the  Viscount 
holds  her  in  perfect  detestation." 

There  was  a  mingled  expression  of  ridicule,  disgust,  and 
indignation  at  the  thought  of  such  a  rivalry.  The  Countess 
*  Rupelmonde  was  old  enough  to  be  the  grandmother  of  tlie 
Viscount.  She  was  a  woman  of  violent  passions,  and  imperi- 
ous temper ;  robust  in  person,  with  a  mascuhne  voice,  a  dusky 
comx^lexion,  green  eyes,  and  powerful  eyebrows. 

It  is  impossible,"  cried  one  of  the  company,  "  that  a  woman 
of  the  countess'  age  and  appearance  can  be  guilty  of  such 


108 


THE  CRAYON  PAPKHS. 


folly.  No,  no ,  you  mistake  the  aim  of  this  detestable  woman. 
She  is  managing  to  get  possession  of  the  estate  of  her  lovely 
niece. " 

This  was  admitted  to  be  the  most  probable;  and  all  concm-rcd 
in  believing  the  countess  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  intended 
sacrifice;  for  although  a  canoness,  a  dignitary  of  a  rohgious 
order,  she  was  pronounced  little  better  than  a  devil  incarnate. 
■  The  Princess  de  Beauvau,  a  woman  of  generous  spirit  and 
intrepid  zeal,  suddenly  rose  from  the  chair  in  which  she  had 
been  reclining.  "  My  prince, "  said  she,  addressing  her  hus- 
band, "if  you  approve  of  it,  I  will  go  immediately  and  have  a 
conversation  on  this  subject  with  the  archbishop.  There  is  not 
a  moment  to  spare.  It  is  now  past  midnight ;  the  ceremony  is 
to  take  place  in  the  morning.  A  few  hours  and  the  ii-revocable 
vows  will  be  pronounced." 

The  prince  inclined  his  head  in  respectful  assent.  The 
princess  set  about  her  generous  enterprise  with  a  woman's 
promptness.  Within  a  short  time  her  carriage  was  at  the  iron 
gate  of  the  archiepiscopal  palace,  and  her  servants  rang  for 
admission.  Two  Switzers,  who  had  charge  of  the  gate,  were 
fast  asleep  in  the  porter's  lodge,  for  it  was  half -past  two  in  the 
morning.  It  was  some  time  before  they  could  be  awakened, 
and  longer  before  they  could  be  made  to  come  forth. 
The  Princess  de  Beauvau  is  at  the  gate!" 

Such  a  personage  was  not  to  be  received  in  deshabille.  Her 
dignity  and  the  dignity  of  the  archbishop  demanded  that  the 
gate  should  be  served  in  full  costume.  For  half  an  hour,  there- 
fore, had  the  princess  to  wait,  in  feverish  impatience,  until  the 
two  dignitaries  of  the  porter's  lodge  arrayed  themselves ;  and 
three  o'clock  sounded  from  the  tower  of  Notre  Dame  before 
they  came  forth.  They  were  in  grand  livery,  of  a  buff  color, 
with  amaranth  galloons,  plaited  with  silver,  and  fringed  sword- 
belts  reaching  to  their  knees,  in  which  were  suspended  long 
rapiers.  They  had  small  three-cornered  hats,  surmounted 
with  plumes;  and  each  bore  in  his  hand  a  halbert.  Thus 
equipped  at  all  points,  they  planted  themselves  before  the  door 
of  the  carriage ;  stnick  the  ends  of  their  halberts  on  the  ground 
with  emphasis;  and  stood  waiting  with  official  importance, 
but  profound  respect,  to  know  the  j^lcasure  of  the  princess. 

She  demanded  to  speak  with  the  archbishop.  A  most  rever- 
ential bow  and  shrug  accompanied  the  reply,  that  "  His  Gran- 
deur was  not  at  home. " 

Not  at  home!   Where  was  he  to  be  found?   Another  bow 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL. 


109 


and  shrug:  "His  Grandeur  either  was,  or  ought  to  be,  in 
retirement  in  the  seminary  of  St.  Magloire ;  unless  he  had  gone 
to  pass  the  Fete  oi"  St.  Bruno  with  the  reverend  Carthusian 
Fathers  of  the  Rue  d'Enf er ;  or  perhai)s  he  might  have  gone  to 
repose  hhnsclf  in  his  castle  of  Confians-sur-Seine.  Though,  on 
further  thought,  it  was  not  unlikely  he  might  have  gone  to 
sleep  at  St.  Cyr,  where  the  Bishop  of  Chartres  never  failed 
to  invite  iiim  for  the  anniversary  soiree  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon. 

The  princess  was  in  despair  at  this  multiplicity  of  cross- 
roads pointed  out  for  the  chase ;  the  brief  interval  of  time  was 
rapidly  elax)sing ;  day  already  began  to  dawn ;  she  saw  there 
was  no  hope  of  finding  the  archbishop  before  the  moment  of 
his  entrance  into  the  church  for  the  morning's  ceremony ;  so 
she  returned  home  quite  distressed. 

Afc  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  princess  was  in  the 
parlor  of  the  monastery  of  De  Panthemont,  and  sent  in  an 
urgent  request  for  a  moment's  conversation  with  the  Lady 
Abbess.  The  reply  brought  was,  that  the  Abbess  could  not 
come  to  the  parlor,  being  obliged  to  attend  to  the  choir,  at  the 
canonical  hours.  The  princess  entreated  permission  to  enter 
the  convent,  to  reveal  to  the  Lady  Abbess  in  two  words  some- 
thing of  the  greatest  importance.  The  Abbess  sent  word  in 
reply,  that  the  thing  wa.s  impossible,  until  she  had  obtained 
permission  from  the  Archbishop  of  Paris.  The  princess 
retired  once  more  to  her  carriage,  and  now,  as  a  forlorn  hope, 
took  her  station  at  the  door  of  the  church,  to  watch  for  the 
arrival  of  the  prelate. 

After  a  while  the  splendid  company  invited  to  this  great 
ceremony  began  to  arrive.  The  beauty,  rank,  and  wealth  of 
the  novice  had  excited  great  attention ;  and,  as  everybody  was 
expected  to  be  present  on  the  occasion,  everybody  pressed  to 
secure  a  place.  The  street  reverberated  with  the  continual  roll 
of  gilded  carriages  and  chariots ;  coaches  of  princes  and  dukes, 
designated  by  imperials  of  crimson  velvet,  and  magnificent 
equipages  of  six  horses,  decked  out  with  nodding  plumes  and 
sumptuous  haiTiessing.  At  length  the  equipages  ceased  to 
arrive;  empty  vehicles  filled  the'  street;  and,  with  a  noisy  and 
parti-colored  crowd  of  lacqueys  in  rich  hveries,  obstructed  ail 
the  entrances  to  De  Panthemont. 

Eleven  o'clock  had  struck ;  the  last  auditor  had  entered  the 
church ;  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ  began  to  swell  through  the 
sacred  pile,  yet  still  the  archbishop  came  not!   The  heart  of 


110 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


the  princess  beat  quicker  and  quicker  with  vague  apprehension ; 
wlien  a  valet,  dressed  in  cloth  of  silver,  trimmed  with  crimson 
velvet,  approached  her  carriage  precipitately.  ''Madame," 
said  he,  "the  archbishop  is  in  the  church;  he  entered  by  the 
portal  of  the  cloister;  he  is  already  in  the  sanctuary;  the  cere- 
mony is  about  to  commence !" 

What  was  to  be  done?  To  speak  with  the  archbishop  was 
now  impossible,  and  yet  on  the  revelation  she  was  to  make 
to  Imn  depended  the  fate  of  the  lovely  novice.  The  princc.-js 
drew  forth  her  tablets  of  enamelled  gold,  wrote  a  few  lines 
therein  with  a  pencil,  and  ordered  her  lacquey  to  make  way  for 
her  through  the  crowd,  and  conduct  her  with  all  speed  to  the 
sacristy. 

The  description  given  of  the  church  and  the  assemblage  on 
this  occasion  presents  an  idea  of  the  aristocratical  state  of  the 
times,  and  of  the  high  interest  awakened  by  the  affecting 
sacrifice  about  to  take  place.  The  church  was  hung  with 
superb  tapestry,  above  which  extended  a  band  of  white  damask, 
fringed  ^xith.  gold,  and  covered  with  armorial  escutcheons. 
A  large  peimon,  emblazoned  with  the  arms  and  alliances  of  the 
high-born  damsel,  was  suspended,  according  to  custom,  in 
place  of  the  lamp  of  the  sanctuary.  The  lustres,  girandoles, 
csxyX  candelabras  of  the  king  had  been  furnished  in  profusion 
to  decorate  the  sacred  edifice,  and  the  pavements  were  all 
covered  with  rich  carpets. 

The  sanctuary  presented  a  reverend  and  august  assemblage 
of  bishops,  canons,  and  monks  of  various  orders,  Benedic- 
tines, Bernardines,  Raccollets,  Capuchins,  and  others,  all  in 
tneir  appropriate  robes  and  dresses^  In  the  midst  presided  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  Christopher  de  Beaumont ;  surrounded  by 
his  four  arch  priests  and  his  vicars-general.  He  was  seated  wiLb 
Ids  back  against  the  altar.  When  his  eyes  were  cast  down,  his 
countenance,  pale  and  severe,  is  represented  as  having  been 
somewhat  sepulchral  and  death-hke;  but  the  moment  he  raised 
his  large,  dark,  sparkling  eyes,  the  whole  became  animated; 
l)oaniing  with  ardor,  and  expressive  of  energy,  penetration,  and 
firmness. 

The  audience  that  crowded  the  church  was  no  less  illustrious. 
Excepting  the  royal  family,  all  that  was  elevated  in  rank  and 
title  was  there ;  never  had  a  ceremonial  of  the  kind  attracted 
an  equal  concourse  of  the  high  aristocracy  of  Paris. 

At  length  the  grated  ^cates  of  the  choir  creaked  on  their 
hinges,  and  ]\Iadame  de  Richeheu,  the  high  and  noble  Abbess 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL. 


Ill 


of  De  Panthemont,  advanced  to  resign  the  novice  into  the 
hands  of  her  aunt,  the  Countess  Canoness  de  Rupelmonde. 
Every  eye  was  turned  with  intense  curiosity  to  gain  a  sight  of 
the  beautiful  victim.  She  was  sumptuously  dressed,  but  her 
paleness  and  languor  accorded  but  little  with  her  ])rilliant  attire. 
The  Canoness  De  Rupelmonde  conducted  her  niece  to  her  pray- 
ing-desk, where,  as  soon  as  the  poor  girl  knelt  do^^n,  she  sank 
as  if  exha^usted.  Just  then  a  sort  of  murmur  was  heard  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  church,  where  the  servants  in  livery  were 
gathered.  A  young  man  was  borne  forth,  struggling  in  con- 
vulsions. He  was  in  the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  guards  of 
King  Stanislaus,  Duke  of  Lorraine.  A  whisper  circulated  that 
it  was  the  young  Viscount  de  Gondrecourt,  and  that  he  was  a 
lover  of  the  novice.  Almost  all  the  young  nobles  present 
hurried  forth  to  proffer  him  sympathy  and  assistance. 

The  Archbishop  of  Paris  remained  all  this  time  seated  before 
the  altar ;  his  eyes  cast  down,  his  pallid  countenance  giving  no 
signs  of  interest  or  participation  in  the  scene  around  him.  It 
was  noticed  that  in  one  of  his  hands,  which  was  covered  with 
a  violet  glove,  ho  grasped  firmly  a  pair  of  tablets,  of  enamelled 
gold. 

The  Canoness  De  Rupelmonde  conducted  her  niece  to  the 
prelate,  to  make  her  profession  of  self-devotion,  and  to  utter 
the  irrevocable  vow.  As  the  lovely  novice  knelt  at  his  feet, 
the  archbishop  fixed  on  her  his  dark,  beaming  eyes,  with  a  kind 
but  earnest  expression.  "Sister!"  said  he,  in  the  softest  and 
most  benevolent  tone  of  voice,  "what  is  your  age?" 

"Nineteen  years,  Monsigneur,"  eagerly  interposed  the  Coun- 
tess de  Rupelmonde. 

"  You  will  reply  to  me  by  and  bye,  Madame,"  said  the  arch- 
bishop, dryly.  He  then  repeated  his  question  to  the  novice, 
who  replied  in  a  faltering  voice,  "Seventeen  years," 

"In  what  diocese  did  you  take  the  white  veil?" 
I    "In  the  diocese  of  Toul." 

"How!"  exclaimed  the  archbishop,  vehemently.  "In  the 
uiocese  of  Toul?  The  chair  of  Toul  is  vacant!  The  Bishop  of 
Toul  died  fifteen  months  since ;  and  those  who  officiate  in  the 
chapter  are  not  authorized  to  receive  novices.  Your  noviciate, 
Mademoiselle,  is  null  and  void,  and  we  cannot  receive  your 
profession." 

The  archbishop  rose  from  his  chair,  resumed  his  mitre,  and 
took  the  crozier  from  the  hands  of  an  attendant. 

' '  My  dear  brethren, "  said  he,  addressing  the  assembly,  ' '  there 


112 


THE  CUAYON  PAPERS. 


is  no  necessity  for  our  examining  and  interrogating  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lenoncour  on  the  sincerity  of  her  religious  vocation. 
There  is  a  canonical  impediment  to  her  professing  for  the  pres- 
ent; and,  as  to  the  future,  we  reserve  to  ourselves  the  con- 
sideration of  the  matter;  interdicting  to  all  other  ecclesiastical 
persons  the  power  ol  accepting  her  vows,  under  penalty  of  in- 
terdiction, of  suspension,  and  of  nullification ;  aU  which  is  in 
virtue  of  our  metropohtan  rights,  contained  in  the  terms  of  the 
bull  cum  proximis:''''  ^''Adjutorium  nostrum  in  nomine  Do- 
mini!'^ pursued  he,  chanting  in  a  grave  and  solemn  voice,  and 
turning  toward  the  altar  to  give  the  benediction  of  the  holy 
sacrament. 

The  noble  auditory  had  that  habitude  of  reserve,  that  empire, 
or  rather  tyranny,  over  all  outward  manifestations  of  internal 
emotions,  which  belongs  to  high  aristocratical  breeding.  The 
declaration  of  the  archbishop,  therefore,  was  received  as  one 
of  the  most  natural  and  ordinary  things  in  the  world,  and  all 
knelt  down  and  received  the  pontifical  benediction  with  perfect 
decorum.  As  soon,  hov»^ever,  as  they  were  released  from  the 
self-restraint  imposed  by  etiquette,  they  amply  mdemnified 
themselves;  and  nothing  v/as  talked  of  for  a  month,  in  the 
fashionable  saloons  of  Paris,  but  the  loves  of  the  handsome 
Viscount  and  the  charming  Henrietta;  the  wickedness  of  the 
canoness ;  the  active  benevolence  and  admirable  address  of  the 
Princess  de  Beauvau ;  and  the  great  wisdom  of  the  archbishop, 
who  was  particularly  extolled  for  his  delicacy  in  defeating  this 
manoeuvi^e  without  any  scandal  to  the  aristocracy,  or  public 
stigma  on  the  name  of  De  Eupelmonde,  and  without  any  de- 
parture from  pastoral  gentleness,  by  adroitly  seizing  upon  an 
informality,  and  turning  it  to  beneficial  account,  with  as  much 
authority  as  charitable  circumspection. 

As  to  the  Canoness  de  Eupelmonde,  she  was  defeated  at  all 
points  in  her  wicked  plans  against  her  beautiful  niece.  In 
consequence  of  the  caveat  of  the  archishop,  her  superior 
ecclesiastic,  the  Abbess  de  Panthemont,  formally  forbade  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Lenoncour  to  resume  the  white  veil  and  the  dress 
of  a  noviciate,  and  instead  of  a  novice's  cell,  estabhshed  her  in 
a  beautiful  apartment  as  a  boarder.  The  next  morning  the 
Canoness  de  Eupelmonde  called  at  the  convent  to  take  away 
her  niece ;  but,  to  her  confusion,  the  abbess  produced  a  lettre- 
de-cachet,  which  she  had  j[ust  received,  and  which  forbade 
Mademoiselle  to  leave  the  convent  with  any  other  person  save 
the  Prince  de  Beauvau. 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL. 


113 


Under  the  auspices  and  tlio  vigilant  attention  of  the  prince, 
the  whole  affair  was  wound  up  in  the  most  technical  and  cir- 
cinnstantial  manner.  The  Countess  de  Rupelmonde,  by  a 
decree  of  the  Grand  Council,  was  divested  of  the  guardianship 
of  her  niece.  All  the  arrears  of  revenues  accumulated  during 
Mademoiselle  de  Lenoncour's  minority  were  rigorously  col- 
lected, the  accounts  scrutinized  and  adjusted,  and  her  noble 
fortune  placed  safely  and  entirely  in  her  hands. 

In  a  little  while  the  noble  personages  who  had  been  invited 
to  the  ceremony  of  taking  the  veil  received  another  invitation, 
on  the  part  of  the  Countess  dowager  de  Gondrecourt,  and  the 
Marshal  Prince  de  Beauvau,  to  attend  the  marriage  of  Adrien 
de  Gondrecourt,  Viscount  of  Jean-sur-Moselle,  and  Henrietta 
de  Lenoncour,  Countess  de  Hevouwal,  etc.,  which  duly  took 
place  in  the  chapel  of  the  archiepiscopal  palace  at  Paris. 


So  much  for  the  beautiful  Henrietta  de  Lenoncour.  We  will 
now  draw  forth  a  companion  picture  of  a  handsome  young 
cavalier,  who  figured  in  the  gay  world  of  Paris  about  the  same 
time,  and  concerning  whom  the  ancient  Marchioness  writes 
with  the  lingering  feeling  of  youthful  romance. 

THE  CHARMINO  LETORIEEES. 

''A  GOOD  face  is  a  letter  of  recommendation,"  says  an  old 
proverb ;  and  it  was  never  more  verified  than  in  the  case  of 
the  Chevalier  Letorieres.  He  was  a  young  gentleman  of  good 
family,  but  who,  according  to  the  Spanish  phrase,  had  nothing 
but  his  cloak  and  sword  (capa  y  espada),  that  is  to  say,  his 
gentle  blood  and  gallant  bearing,  to  help  him  forward  in  the 
world.  Through  the  interest  of  an  uncle,  who  was  an  abbe,  he 
received  a  gratuitous  education  at  a  fashionable  college,  but 
finding  the  terms  of  study  too  long,  and  the  vacations  too 
short,  for  his  gay  and  indolent  temper,  he  left  college  without 
saying  a  word,  and  launched  himself  upon  Paris,  with  a  light 
heart  and  still  lighter  pocket.  Here  he  led  a  life  to  his  humor. 
It  is  true  he  had  to  make  scanty  meals,  and  to  lodge  in  a  garret ; 
but  what  of  that?  He  was  his  own  master;  free  from  all  task 
or  restraint.  When  cold  or  hungry,  he  sallied  forth,  like 
others  of  the  chameleon  order,  and  banqueted  on  pure  air  and 
warm  sunshine  in  the  pubhc  Vv-alks  and  gardens ;  drove  off  the 
thoughts  of  a  dinner  by  amusing  himself  with  the  gay  and  gro- 


114 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


tesqne  throngs  of  the  metropohs;  and  if  one  of  the  poorest,  was 
one  of  the  merriest  gentlemen  upon  town.  Wherever  he  went 
his  good  looks  and  frank,  graceful  demeanor,  had  an  instant 
and  magical  effect  in  securing  favor.  There  was  hut  one 
word  to  express  his  fascinating  powers — he  was  "charm- 
ing." 

Instances  are  given  of  the  effect  of  his  winning  qualities  upon 
jninds  of  coarse,  ordinary  mould.  He  had  once  taken  shelter 
from  a  heavy  shower  under  a  gateway.  A  hackney  coachman, 
who  was  passmg  hy,  pulled  up,  and  asked  him  if  he  wished  a 
cast  in  his  carriage.  Letorieres  dechned,  with  a  melancholy 
and  dubious  shake  of  the  head.  The  coachman  regarded  him 
wistfully,  repeated  his  solicitations,  and  wished  to  know  what 
place  he  was  going  to.  ' '  To  the  Palace  of  Justice,  to  walk  in 
the  galleries;  but  I  will  wait  here  until  the  rain  is  over." 

"And  why  so?"  inquired  the  coachman,  pertinaciously. 

"  Because  I've  no  money;  do  let  me  be  quiet." 

The  coachman  jumped  down,  and  opening  the  door  of  his 
carriage,  "It  shaU  never  be  said,"  cried  he,  "that  I  left  so 
charming  a  young  gentleman  to  weary  himself,  and  catch 
cold,  merely  for  the  sake  of  twenty-four  sous." 

Arrived  at  the  Palace  of  Justice,  he  stopped  before  the  saloon 
of  a  famous  restaurateur,  opened  the  door  of  the  carriage, 
and  taking  off  his  hat  very  respectfully,  begged  the  youth  to 
accept  of  a  Louis-d'or.  ' '  You  will  meet  with  some  young  gen- 
tlemen within,"  said  he,  "with  whom  you  may  wish  to  take  a 
hand  at  cards.  The  number  of  my  coach  is  144.  You  can  find 
me  out,  and  repay  me  whenever  you  please." 

The  worthy  Jehu  was  some  years  afterward  made  coachman 
to  the  Princess  Sophia,  of  France,  through  the  recoimuenda- 
tion  of  the  handsome  youth  he  had  so  generously  obliged. 

Another  instance  in  point  is  given  with  respect  to  his  tailor,  to 
whom  he  owed  four  hundred  livres.  The  tailor  had  repeatedly 
dunned  him,  but  was  always  put  off  with  the  best  grace  in  the 
world.  The  wife  of  the  tailor  urged  her  husband  to  assume  a 
harsher  tone.  He  replied  that  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  speak  roughly  to  so  charming  a  young  gentleman.  ' 

"  I've  no  patience  with  such  want  of  spirit!"  cried  the  wife, 
"  you  have  not  the  courage  to  show  your  teeth:  but  I'm  going 
out  to  get  change  for  this  note  of  a  hundred  crowns ;  before  I 
come  home,  I'll  seek  this  '  charming '  youth  myself,  and  see 
whether  he  has  the  power  to  charm  me.  I'll  warrant  he 
won't  be  able  to  put  me  off  with  fine  looks  and  fine  speeches.'' 


THE  TAKIAG  OF  THE  VEIL. 


110 


With  these  and  many  more  vaunts,  the  good  dame  saUied 
forth.  When  she  returned  home,  however,  she  wore  quite  a 
different  aspect. 

"Well,"  said  her  husband,  "how  much  have  you  received 
from  the  '  charming  '  young  man?" 

"  Let  me  alone,"  replied  the  wife;  "  I  found  him  playing  on 
'the  guitar,  and  he  looked  so  handsome,  and  was  so  amiable 
and  genteel,  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  trouble  him." 

"And  the  change  for  the  hundred-crown  note?"  said  the 
tailor. 

The  wife  hesitated  a  moment:  "Faith,"  cried  she,  "you'll 
have  to  add  the  amount  to  your  next  bill  against  him.  The 
poor  young  gentleman  had  such  a  melancholy  air,  that — I  know 
not  how  it  was,  but  -I  left  the  hundred  crowns  on  his  mantel- 
piece in  spite  of  him !" 

The  captivating  looks  and  manners  of  Letorieres  made  his 
way  with  equal  facility  in  the  great  world.  His  high  connec- 
tions entitled  him  to  presentation  at  court,  but  some  questions 
arose  about  the  sufficiency  of  his  proofs  of  nobility ;  whereupon 
the  king,  who  had  seen  him  walking  in  the  gardens  of  Ver- 
sailles, and  had  been  charmed  with  his  appearance,  put  an  end 
to  all  demurs  of  etiquette  by  making  him  a  viscount. 

The  same  kind  of  fascination  is  said  to  have  attended  him 
throughout  his  career.  He  succeeded  in  various  difficult  fam- 
ily suits  on  questions  of  honors  and  privileges ;  he  had  merely 
to  appear  in  court  to  dispose  the  judges  in  his  favor.  He  at 
length  became  so  popular,  that  on  one  occasion,  when  he 
appeared  at  the  theatre  on  recovering  from  a  wound  received 
in  a  duel,  the  audience  applauded  him  on  his  entrance.  Noth- 
ing, it  is  said,  could  have  been  in  more  perfect  good  taste  and 
high  breeding  than  his  conduct  on  this  occasion.  When  he 
heard  the  applause,  he  rose  in  his  box,  stepped  forward,  and 
surveyed  both  sides  of  the  house,  as  if  he  could  not  believe 
that  it  was  himself  they  were  treating  like  a  favorite  actor,  or 
a  prince  of  the  blood. 

His  success  with  the  fair  sex  may  easily  be  presumed ;  but 
he  had  too  much  honor  and  sensibility  to  render  his  inter- 
course with  them  a  series  of  cold  gallantries  and  heartless  tri- 
umphs. In  the  course  of  his  attendance  upon  court,  where  he 
held  a  post  of  honor  about  the  king,  he  fell  deeply  in  love  with 
the  beautiful  Princess  Julia,  of  Savoy  Carignan.  She  was 
young,  tender,  and  simple-hearted,  and  returned  his  love  with 
equal  fervor.    Her  family  took  the  alarm  at  this  attachment 


116 


THE  CRAYON  PAPhRS. 


and  procured  an  order  that  she  should  inhabit  the  Abbey  of 
Montmartre,  where  she  was  treated  with  all  befitting  dehcacy 
and  distinction,  but  not  permitted  to  go  beyond  the  convent 
walls.  The  lovers  found  means  to  correspond.  One  of  their 
letters  was  intercepted,  and  it  is  even  hinted  that  a  plan  of 
elopement  was  discovered.  A  duel  was  the  consequence,  with 
one  of  the  fiery  relations  of  the  princess.  Letorieres  received 
two  sword-thrusts  in  his  right  side.  His  wounds  were  serious, 
yet  after  two  or  three  days'  confinement  he  could  not  resist  his 
impatience  to  see  the  princess.  He  succeeded  in  scaling  the 
walls  of  the  abbey,  and  obtaining  an  interview  in  an  arcade 
leading  to  the  cloister  of  the  cemetery.  The  interview  of  the 
lovers  was  long  and  tender.  They  exchanged  vows  of  eternal 
fidelity,  and  flattered  themselves  with  hopes  of  future  happi- 
ness, which  they  were  never  to  realize.  After  repeated  fare- 
wells, the  princess  re-entered  the  convent,  never  again  to 
behold  the  charming  Letorieres.  On  the  following  morning 
his  corpse  Wcis  found  stilf  and  cold  on  the  pavement  of  the 
cloister ! 

It  would  seem  that  the  wounds  of  the  unfortunate  youth  had 
been  reopened  by  his  efforts  to  get  over  the  wall;  that  he  had 
refrained  from  calling  assistance,  lest  he  should  expose  the 
princess,  and  that  he  had  bled  to  death,  without  any  one  to  aid 
hun,  or  to  close  his  dying  eyes. 


THE  EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RINGWOOD.* 

NOTED  DOWN  FROM  HIS  CONVERSATIONS. 

"  I  AM  a  Kentuckian  by  residence  and  choice,  but  a  Virginian 
by  birth.  The  cause  of  my  first  leaving  the  '  Ancient  Domin- 
ion, '  and  emigrating  to  Kentucky,  was  a  jackass !  You  stare, 
but  have  a  little  patience,  and  I'll  soon  show  you  how  it  came 
to  pass,  llj  father,  who  was  of  one  of  the  old  Virginian 
families,  resided  in  Richmond.    He  was  a  widower,  and  his 


*  Ralph  Rin<^woofl.  thoua^h  a  fictitious  name,  is  a  real  personage:  the  worthy- 
original  is  now  living?  and  floni-isliiug  in  honorable  station.  I  have  g-iven  some 
anecdotes  of  his  earl and  eccentric  career  in,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  the  very 
words  in  which  he  related  them.  They  certainly  afforded  strong  temptations  to 
the  embellishments  of  fiction;  bnt  I  thought  them  so  strikingly  characteristic  of  the 
individual,  and  of  the  scenes  and  society  into  which  his  peculiar  humors  carried 
him,  that  I  preferred  giving  them  in  their  original  bimpUoity.— G.  C. 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RINOWOOD.  II7 


domestic  affairs  were  managed  by  a  housekeeper  of  the  old 
school,  such  as  used  to  administer  the  concerns  of  opulent  Vir^ 
ginian  households.  She  was  a  dignitary  that  ahnost  rivalled 
my  hither  in  importance,  and  seemed  to  think  everything  be- 
longed to  her ;  in  fact,  she  was  so  considerate  in  her  economy, 
and  so  careful  of  expense,  as  sometimes  to  vex  my  father,  who 
would  swear  she  was  disgracing  him  by  her  meanness.  She 
always  appeared  with  that  ancient  insignia  of  housekeeping 
trust  and  authority,  a  great  bunch  of  keys  jingling  at  her 
girdle.  She  superintended  the  arrangements  of  the  table  at 
every  meal,  and  saw  that  the  dishes  were  all  placed  according 
to  her  primitive  notions  of  symmetry.  In  the  evening  she 
took  her  stand  and  served  out  tea  with  a  mingled  respectful- 
ness and  pride  of  station,  truly  exemplary.  Her  great 
ambition  was  to  have  everything  in  order,  and  that  the  estab- 
hshment  under  her  sway  should  be  cited  as  a  model  of  good 
housekeeping.  If  anything  went  wrong,  poor  old  Barbara 
would  take  it  to  heart,  and  sit  in  her  room  and  cry ;  until  a 
few  chapters  in  the  Bible  would  quiet  her  spirits,  and  make  all 
calm  again.  The  Bible,  in  fact,  was  her  constant  resort  in  time 
of  trouble.  She  opened  it  indiscriminately,  and  whether  she 
chanced  among  the  lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  the  Canticles  of 
Solomon,  or  the  rough  enumeration  or!  the  tribes  in  Deuter- 
onomy, a  chapter  was  a  chapter,  and  operated  like  baim  t6  her 
soul.  Such  was  our  good  old  housekeei^er  Barbara,  who  was 
destined,  unwittingly,  to  have  a  most  unportant  effect  upon 
my  destiny. 

' '  It  came  to  pass,  during  the  days  of  my  juvenility,  while  I 
was  yet  what  is  termed  '  an  unlucky  boy,'  that  a  gentleman  of 
our  neighborhood,  a  great  advocate  for  experiments  and  im- 
provements of  all  kinds,  took  it  into  Ms  head  that  it  would  be 
an  inmiense  public  advantage  to  introduce  a  breed  of  mules, 
and  accordingly  imported  three  jacks  to  stock  the  neighbor- 
hood. This  in  a  part  of  the  country  where  the  people  cared 
for  nothing  but  blood  horses !  Why,  sir !  they  would  have  con- 
sidered their  mares  disgraced  and  their  whole  stud  dishonored 
by  such  a  misalliance.  The  whole  matter  was  a  town  talk  and 
a  town  scandrJ,  The  worthy  amalgamator  of  quadrupeds 
found  himself  in  a  dismal  scrape;  so  he  backed  out  in  time, 
abjured  the  whole  doctrine  of  a^malgamation,  and  turned  his 
jacks  loose  to  shift  for  themselves  upon  the  town  common. 
There  they  used  to  run  about  and  lead  an  idle,  good-for- 
nothing,  holiday  life,  the  happiest  animals  in  the  country. 


118 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


"It  SO  happened  that  my  way  to  school  lay  across  this 
common.  The  first  time  that  I  saw  one  of  these  animals  it  set 
up  a  braying  and  frightened  me  confoundedly.  However,  I 
soon  got  over  my  fright,  and  seeing  that  it  had  something  of 
a  horse  look,  my  Virginian  love  for  anything  of  the  equestrian 
si^ecies  predominated,  and  I  determined  to  back  it.  I  accord- 
ingly applied  at  a  grocer's  shop,  procured  a  cord  that  had  been 
round  a  loaf  of  sugar,  and  made  a  kind  of  halter ;  then  sum- 
moning some  of  my  school-fellows,  we  drove  master  Jack 
about  the  common  until  we  hemmed  liim  in  an  angle  of  a 
'  worm  fence. '  xVf ter  some  difficulty,  we  fixed  the  halter 
round  his  muzzle,  and  I  mounted.  Up  flew  his  heels,  away  I 
went  over  his  head,  and  off  he  scampered.  However,  I  was  on 
my  legs  in  a  twinkhng,  gave  chase,  caught  him,  and  remounted. 
By  dint  of  repeated  tumbles  I  soon  learned  to  stick  to  his  back, 
so  that  he  could  no  more  cast  me  than  he  could  his  own  skin. 
From  that  time,  master  Jack  and  his  companions  had  a  scam- 
pering life  of  it,  for  we  all  rode  them  between  school  hours, 
and  on  holiday  afternoons ;  and  you  may  be  sure  school-boys' 
nags  are  never  permitted  to  suffer  the  grass  to  grow  under 
their  feet.  They  soon  became  so  knowing  that  they  took  to 
their  heels  at  the  very  sight  of  a  school-boy;  and  we  were 
generally  much  longer  in  chasing  than  we  were  in  riding  them. 

' '  Sunday  approached,  on  which  I  projected  an  equestrian 
excursion  on  one  of  these  long-eared  steeds.  As  I  knew  the 
jacks  would  be  in  great  demand  on  Sunday  morning,  I  secured 
one  over  night,  and  conducted  him  home,  to  be  ready  for  an 
early  outset.  But  where  was  I  to  quarter  him  for  the  night? 
I  could  not  put  him  in  the  stable ;  our  old  black  groom  George 
was  as  absolute  in  that  domain  as  Barbara  was  within  doors, 
and  would  have  thought  his  stable,  his  horses,  and  himself  dis- 
graced, by  the  introduction  of  a  jackass.  I  recollected  the 
smoke-house ;  an  out-building  appended  to  all  Virginian  estab- 
lishments for  the  smoking  of  hams,  and  other  kinds  of  meat. 
So  I  got  the  key,  put  master  Jack  in,  locked  the  door,  returned 
the  key  to  its  place,  and  went  to  bed,  intending  to  release  my 
prisoner  at  an  early  hour,  before  any  of  the  family  were  awake. 
I  was  so  tired,  however,  by  the  exertions  I  had  made  in  catch- 
ing the  donkey,  that  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  and  the  morning 
broke  without  my  awaking. 

"  Not  so  with  dame  Barbara,  the  housekeeper.  As  usual,  to 
use  her  own  phrase,  '  she  was  up  before  the  crow  put  his  shoes 
on,'  and  bustled  about  to  get  things  in  order  for  breakfast. 


EARLY  EXPKnib:^-Cm  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  ]19 


Her  first  resort  was  to  the  smoke-house.  Scarce  had  she 
opened  the  door,  when  master  Jack,  tired  of  his  confinement, 
and  glad  to  be  released  from  darkness,  gave  a  loud  bray,  and 
rushed  forth.  Down  dropped  old  Barbara;  the  animal  tram- 
pled over  her,  and  made  off  for  the  common.  Poor  Barbara ! 
She  had  never  before  seen  a  donkey,  and  having  read  in  the 
Bible  that  the  devil  went  about  like  a  roaring  lion,  seeking 
whom  he  might  devour,  she  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was 
Beelzebub  himself.  The  kitchen  was  soon  in  a  hubbub ;  the 
servants  hurried  to  the  spot.  There  lay  old  Barbara  in  fits ; 
as  fast  as  she  got  out  of  one,  the  thoughts  of  the  devil  came 
over  her,  and  she  fell  into  another,  for  the  good  soul  was 
devoutly  superstitious. 

"As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  among  those  attracted  by  the 
noise  was  a  little,  cursed,  fidgety,  crabbed  uncle  of  mine ;  one 
of  those  uneasy  spirits  that  cannot  rest  quietly  in  their  beds  in 
the  morning,  but  must  be  up  early,  to  bother  the  household. 
He  was  only  a  kind  of  half-uncle,  after  all,  for  he  had  married 
my  father's  sister;  yet  he  assumed  great  authority  on  the 
strength  of  this  left-handed  relationship,  and  was  a  universal 
intermeddler  and  family  pest.  This  prying  little  busydody 
soon  ferreted  out  the  truth  of  the  story,  and  discovered,  by 
hook  and  by  crook,  that  I  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  affair,  and 
had  locked  up  the  donkey  in  the  smoke-house.  He  stopped  to 
inquire  no  further,  for  he  was  one  of  those  testy  curmudgeons 
w4th  whom  uixlucky  boys  are  always  in  the  wrong.  Leaving 
old  Barbara  to  wrestle  in  imagination  with  the  devil,  he  made 
for  my  bed-chamber,  where  I  still  lay  wrapped  in  rosy  slum- 
bers, little  dreaming  of  the  mischief  I  had  done,  and  the  storm 
about  to  break  over  me. 

"In  an  instant  I  was  awakened  by  a  shower  of  thwacks,  and 
started  up  in  wild  amazement.  I  demanded  the  meaning  of 
this  attack,  but  received  no  other  reply  than  that  I  had 
murdered  the  housekeeper;  while  my  uncle  continued  wliack- 
ing  away  during  my  confusion.  I  seized  a  poker,  and  put 
myself  on  the  defensive.  I  was  a  stout  boy  for  my  years, 
vv^hile  my  uncle  was  a  little  wiffet  of  a  man ;  one  that  in  Ken- 
tucky we  would  not  call  even  an  '  individual ; '  nothing  more 
than  a  'remote  circumstance.'  I  soon,  therefore,  brought  him 
to  a  parley,  and  learned  the  whole  extent  of  the  charge  brought 
against  me.  I  confessed  to  the  donkey  and  the  smoke-house, 
but  pleaded  not  guilty  of  the  murder  of  the  housekeeper.  I 
soon  found  out  that  old  Bai'bara  was  still  alive.    She  con- 


120 


THE  CRA  TON  PAPERS. 


tinned  under  the  doctor's  hands,  however,  for  several  da3's; 
and  whenever  she  had  an  ill  turn  my  uncle  would  seek  to  give 
me  another  flogging.  I  appealed  to  my  father,  but  got  no 
redress.  I  was  considered  an  'unlucky  boy,'  prone  to  all 
kinds  of  mischief ;  so  that  prepossessions  were  against  me  in 
all  cases  of  appeal. 

"I  felt  stung  to  the  soul  at  all  this.  I  had  been  beaten, 
degraded,  and  treated  with  shghting  when  I  complained.  I 
lost  my  usual  good  spirits  and  good  humor ;  and,  being  out  of 
temper  with  everybody,  fancied  everybody  out  of  temper  vnth 
me.  A  certain  ^vild,  roving  spirit  of  freedom,  which  I  beheve 
is  as  inherent  in  me  as  it  is  in  the  partridge,  was  brought  into 
sudden  activity  by  the  checks  and  restraints  I  suffered.  '  111 
go  from  home,'  thought  I,  'and  shift  for  myself.'  Perhaps 
this  notion  was  quickened  by  the  rage  for  emigrating  to  Ken- 
tucky, which  was  at  that  time  prevalent  in  Virginia.  I  had 
heard  such  stories  of  the  romantic  beauties  of  the  countiy ;  of 
the  abundance  of  game  of  all  kinds,  and  of  the  glorious  inde- 
pendent life  of  the  hunters  who  ranged  its  noble  forests,  and 
lived  by  the  rifle ;  that  I  was  as  much  agog  to  get  there  as  boys 
who  hve  in  sea-ports  are  to  launch  themselves  among  the  won- 
ders and  adventures  of  the  ocean. 

"  After  a  time  old  Barbara  got  better  in  mind  and  body,  and 
matters  were  explained  to  her :  and  she  became  gradually  con- 
vinced that  it  was  not  the  devil  she  had  encountered.  Wlien 
she  heard  how  harshly  I  had  been  treated  on  her  account,  the 
good  old  soul  was  extremely  grieved,  and  spo'ke  warmly  to  my 
father  in  my  behalf.  He  had  himself  remarked  the  change 
in  my  behavior,  and  thought  punishment  might  have  been 
carried  too  far.  He  sought,  therefore,  to  have  some  conversa- 
tion ^^dth  me,  and  to  soothe  my  feelings ;  but  it  was  too  late. 
I  frankly  told  him  the  course  of  mortification  that  I  had  ex- 
perienced, and  the  fixed  determination  I  had  made  to  go  from 
home. 

"  '  And  where  do  you  mean  to  go? ' 
'"To  Kentucky.' 

"  '  To  Kentucky!  Why,  you  know  nobody  there.' 
"  '  No  matter:  I  can  soon  make  acquaintances.' 
"  '  And  what  will  you  do  when  you  get  there?' 
"'Hunt!' 

"  My  father  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  and  looked  in  my  face 
with  a  serio-comic  expression.  I  was  not  far  in  my  teens,  and 
to  talk  of  setting  off  alone  for  Kentucky,  to  turn  hmiter, 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  121 


seemed  doubtless  the  idle  prattle  of  a  boy.  He  was  little 
aware  of  the  dogged  resolution  of  my  character;  and  his 
smile  of  incredulity  but  fixed  me  more  obstinately  in  my  pur- 
pose. I  assured  him  I  was  serious  in  what  I  said,  and  would 
cei'tainly  set  oif  for  Kentucky  in  the  spring. 

"  Month  after  month  passed  away.  ^My  father  now  and  then 
adverted  slightly  to  what  had  passed  between  us;  doubtless 
for  the  purpose  of  sounding  me.  I  always  expressed  the  same 
grave  and  fixed  determination.  By  degrees  he  spoke  to  me 
more  directly  on  the  subject,  endeavoring  earnestly  but  kindly 
to  dissuade  me.    My  only  reply  was,  '  I  had  made  up  my  mind.' 

"Accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  spring  had  fairly  opened,  I 
sought  him  one  day  in  his  study,  and  informed  him  I  was 
about  to  set  out  for  Kentucky,  and  had  come  to  take  my 
leave.  He  made  no  objection,  for  he  had  exhausted  persua- 
sion and  remonstrance,  and  doubtless  thought  it  best  to  give 
way  to  my  humor,  trusting  that  a  little  rough  experience 
w^ould  soon  bring  me  home  again.  I  asked  money  for  my 
journey.  He  w^ent  to  a  chest,  took  out  a  long  green  silk  purse, 
well  filled,  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  I  now  asked  for  a  horse 
and  servant. 

"  '  A  horse  I '  said  my  father,  sneeringly :  '  why,  you  would 
not  go  a  mile  without  racing  him,  and  breaking  your  neck ; 
and  as  to  a  servant,  you  cannot  take  care  of  yourself,  much 
less  of  him.' 

"  '  How  am  I  to  travel,  then? ' 

"  '  Why,  I  suppose  you  are  man  enough  to  travel  on  foot.' 

"  He  spoke  jestingly,  fit  tie  thinking  I  would  take  him  at  his 
word ;  but  I  was  thoroughly  piqued  in  respect  to  my  enter- 
prise; so  I  pocketed  the  purse,  v/ent  to  my  room,  tied  up  three 
or  four  shirts  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  put  a  dirk  in  my 
bosom,  girt  a  couple  of  pistols  round  my  waist,  and  felt  like 
a  knight-errant  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  ready  to  rove  the  world 
in  quest  of  adventures. 

' '  My  sister  (I  had  but  one)  hung  round  me  and  wept,  and 
entreated  me  to  stay.  I  felt  my  heart  swxU  in  my  thi-oat ;  but 
I  gulped  it  back  to  its  place,  and  straightened  myself  up:  I 
would  not  suffer  myself  to  cry.  I  at  length  disengaged  my- 
self from  her,  and  got  to  the  door. 

"  '  When  will  you  come  back? '  cried  she. 

"  '  Never,  by  heavens ! '  cried  I,  '  until  I  come  back  a  member 
of  Congress  from  Kentucky.  I  am  determined  to  show  that  I 
am  not  the  tail-end  of  the  family.' 


122 


TIIIC  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


"Siicli  was  my  first  outset  from  home.  You  may  suppose 
what  a  greenhorn  I  was,  and  how  Kttle  I  l^new  of  the  world  I 
was  launcliing  into. 

"I  do  not  recollect  any  incident  of  importance,  until  I 
reached  the  borders  of  Pennsylvania.  I  had  stopi.)ed  at  an  inn 
to  get  some  refreshment;  and  as  I  was  eating  in  the  backi-oom, 
I  overheard  two  men  ui  the  bar-room  conjecture  who  and  what 
r.  could  be.  One  determined,  at  length,  that  I  was  a  run-away 
apprentice,  and  ought  to  be  stopped,  to  which  the  other  as- 
sented. When  I  had  finished  my  meal,  and  paid  for  it,  I  went 
out  at  the  back  door,  lest  I  should  be  stopped  by  my  super- 
visors. Scorning,  however,  to  steal  off  like  a  culprit,  1  walked 
round  to  the  front  of  the  house.  One  of  the  men  advanced  to 
the  front  door.  He  wore  Ms  hat  on  one  side,  and  had  a  conse- 
quential air  that  nettled  me. 

"  '  Where  are  you  going,  youngster? '  demanded  he. 

"  '  That's  none  of  your  business ! '  repUed  I,  rather  pertly. 

"  '  Yes,  but  it  is,  though!  You  have  run  away  from  home, 
and  must  give  an  account  of  yourself. ' 

He  advanced  to  seize  me,  Avhen  I  drew  forth  a  pistol.  '  If 
you  advance  another  step,  I'll  shoot  you ! ' 

"  He  sprang  back  as  if  he  had  trodden  upon  a  rattlesnake, 
and  his  hat  fell  off  in  the  movement. 

"  '  Let  him  alone ! '  cried  his  comiDanion ;  '  he's  a  foolish,  mad- 
headed  boy,  and  don't  know  what  he's  about.  He'U  shoot  you, 
you  may  rely  on  it. ' 

"  He  did  not  need  any  caution  in  the  matter;  he  was  afraid 
even  to  pick  up  his  hat:  so  I  pushed  forward  on  my  way, 
without  molestation.  This  incident,  however,  had  its  effect 
upon  me.  I  became  fearful  of  sleeping  in  any  house  at  night, 
lest  I  should  be  stopped.  I  took  my  meals  in  the  houses,  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  but  would  turn  aside  at  night  into  some 
wood  or  ravine,  make  a  fire,  and  sleep  before  it.  This  I  con- 
sidered was  true  hunter's  style,  and  I  wished  to  inure  myself 
to  it. 

' '  At  length  I  arrived  at  Brownsville,  leg- weary  and  way- 
worn, and  in  a  shabby  plight,  as  you  may  suppose,  having  been 
'  cami)ing  out '  for  some  nights  past.  I  applied  at  some  of  the 
inferior  inns,  but  could  gain  no  admission.  I  was  regarded  for 
a  moment  ^vith  a  dubious  eye,  and  then  informed  they  did  not 
receive  foot-passengers.  At  last  I  went  boldly  to  the  principal 
inn.    The  landlord  appeared  as  unwiUing  as  the  rest  to  receive 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  123 


a  vagrant  boy  beneath  his  roof;  but  his  wife  interfered  in  the 
midst  01  his  excuses,  and  half  elbowing  him  aside : 

"  'Where  are  you  going,  my  lad? '  said  she. 

*"To  Kentucky.' 

"  '  What  are  you  going  there  for? ' 

'"To  hunt.' 

"  She  looked  earnestly  at  me  for  a  moment  or  two.  '  Have 
you  a  mother  living? '  said,  she  at  length. 

"  '  No,  madam:  she  has  been  dead  for  some  time.' 

"  ' I  thought  so! '  cried  she,  warmly.  '  I  knew  if  you  had  a 
mother  living,  you  would  not  be  here. '  From  that  moment  the 
good  Avoman  treated  me  with  a  mother's  kindness. 

"  I  remained  several  days  beneath  her  roof,  recovering  from 
the  fatigue  of  my  journey.  While  here  I  purchased  a  rifle  and 
practised  daily  at  a  mark  to  prepare  myself  for  a  hunter's  Hfe. 
When  sufficiently  recruited  in  strength  I  took  leave  of  my 
kind  host  and  hostess  and  resumed  my  journey. 

"At  Wheehng  I  embarked  in  a  flat-bottomed  family  boat, 
technically  called  a  broad-horn,  a  prune  river  conveyance  in 
those  days.  In  this  ark  for  two  weeks  I  floated  down  the 
Ohio.  The  river  was  as  yet  in  all  its  wild  beauty.  Its  loftiest 
trees  had  not  been  thinned  out.  The  forest  overhung  the 
water's  edge,  and  was  occasionally  skirted  by  immense  cane- 
brakes.  Wild  animals  of  all  kinds  abounded.  We  heard  them 
rushing  through  the  thickets  and  plashing  in  the  water.  Deer 
and  bears  would  frequently  swim  across  the  river;  others 
would  come  down  to  the  bank  and  gaze  at  the  boat  as  it  passed. 
I  was  incessantly  on  the  alert  with  my  rifle ;  but  somehow  or 
other  the  game  was  never  within  shot.  Sometimes  I  got  a 
chance  to  land  and  try  my  skill  on  shore.  I  shot  squirrels  and 
small  birds  and  even  wild  turkeys;  but  though  I  caug'ht 
glimpses  of  deer  bounding  away  through  the  woods,  I  never 
could  get  a  fair  shot  at  them. 

' '  In  this  way  we  glided  in  our  broad-horn  past  Cincinnati, 
the  'Queen  of  the  West,'  as  she  is  now  called,  then  a  mere 
group  of  log  cabins :  and  the  site  of  the  bustling  city  of  Louis- 
ville, then  designated  by  a  solitary  house.  As  I  said  before, 
the  Ohio  was  as  yet  a  wild  river ;  all  was  forest,  forest,  forest ! 
Near  the  confluence  of  Green  Eiver  with  the  Ohio,  I  landed, 
bade  adieu  to  the  broad-horn,  and  struck  for  the  interior  of 
Kentucky.  I  had  no  precise  plan ;  my  only  idea  was  to  make 
for  one  of  the  wfldest  parts  of  the  country.  I  had  relatives  in 
Lexington  and  other  settled  places,  to  whom  I  thought  it  prob- 


124 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


able  my  father  would  write  concerning  me :  go  as  I  was  full  of 
manliood  and  independence,  and  resolutely  bent  on  making 
my  way  in  the  vrorld  without  assistance  or  control,  I  resolved 
to  keep  clear  of  them  all. 

''In  the  course  of  my  first  day's  trudge,  I  shot  a  wild  turkey, 
and  slung  it  on  my  back  for  provisions.  The  forest  was  open 
and  clear  from  underwood.  I  saw  deer  in  abundance,  but 
always  rumiing,  running.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  these  anunals 
never  stood  still. 

"At  length  I  came  to  where  a  gang  of  half-stai^ved  wolves 
were  feasting  on  the  carcass  of  a  deer  wliich  they  had  run 
down;  and  snarling  and  snappmg  and  fighting  hke  so  many 
dogs.  They  were  all  so  ravenous  and  mtent  upon  theu'  prey 
that  they  did  not  notice  me,  and  I  had  time  to  make  my  obser- 
vations. One,  larger  and  fiercer  than  the  rest,  seemed  to  claim 
the  larger  share,  and  to  keep  the  others  in  awe.  If  any  one 
came  too  near  him  while  eating,  he  would  fly  off,  seize  and 
shake  him,  and  then  return  to  his  repast.  '  This, '  thought  I, 
'  must  be  the  captain;  if  I  can  kill  hun,  I  shall  defeat  the  whole 
army.'  I  accordingly  took  aim,  fired,  and  down  dropped  the 
old  fellow.  He  might  be  only  shamming  dead ;  so  I  loaded  and 
put  a  second  baU  through  hun.  He  never  budged ;  aU  the  rest 
ran  off,  and  my  victory  was  complete. 

' '  It  would  not  be  easy  to  describe  my  triumphant  feelings 
on  this  great  achievement.  I  marched  on  with  renovated 
spirit,  regarding  myself  as  absolute  lord  of  the  forest.  As 
night  drew  near,  I  prepared  for  camping.  My  first  care  was  to 
collect  dry  wood  and  make  a  roaring  fire  to  cook  and  sleep  by, 
and  to  frighten  off  wolves,  and  bears,  and  panthers.  I  then 
began  to  pluck  my  turkey  for  supper.  I  had  camped  out 
several  times  in  the  early  part  of  my  expedition ;  but  that  was 
in  comparatively  more  settled  and  civihzed  regions,  where 
there  were  no  ^xil^i  animals  of  consequence  in  the  forest.  This 
was  my  first  camping  out  m  the  real  wildei-ness ;  and  I  was 
soon  made  sensible  of  the  lonelmess  and  wildness  of  my  situa- 
tion. 

"In  a  little  while  a  concert  of  wolves  commenced:  there 
might  have  been  a  dozen  or  two,  but  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  there 
were  thousands.  I  never  heard  such  howling  and  whining. 
Havmg  prepared  my  turkey,  I  divided  it  into  two  parts,  thrust 
two  sticks  into  one  of  the  halves,  and  planted  them  on  end 
before  the  fire,  the  hunter's  mode  of  roasting.  The  smell  of 
roast  meat  quickened  the  appetites  of  the  wolves,  and  their 


EARLY  EXri'Jn!h\\C/-:s  OF  JIALPII  JUNG  WOOD.  125 


concert  became  truly  inferiia].  They  seemed  to  be  all  around 
me,  but  I  could  only  now  and  then  get  a  glunpse  of  one  of 
them,  as  lie  came  within  the  glare  of  the  light. 

"I  did  not  much  care  for  the  wolves,  who  I  knew  to  be  a 
cowardly  race,  but  I  had  heard  terrible  stories  of  panthers, 
and  began  to  fear  their  stealthy  prowhngs  in  the  sui-rounding 
darlvuess.  I  was  thirsty,  and  heard  a  brook  bubbling  and 
tinkling  along  at  no  great  distance,  but  absolutely  dared  not  go 
there,  lest  some  panther  might  lie  in  wait,  and  spring  upon  me. 
By  and  by  a  deer  whistled.  I  had  never  heard  one  before,  and 
thought  it  must  be  a  panther.  I  now  felt  uneasy  lest  he  might 
climb  the  trees,  crawl  along  the  branches  overhead,  and  plump 
down  upon  me ;  so  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  branches,  until 
my  head  ached.  I  more  than  once  thought  I  saw  fiery  eyes 
glaring  down  from  among  the  leaves.  At  length  I  thought  of 
my  sui^per  and  turned  to  see  if  my  half-turkey  was  cooked. 
In  crowding  so  near  the  fire  I  had  pressed  the  meat  into  the 
flames,  and  it  was  consumed.  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  toast 
the  other  half,  and  take  better  ca.re  of  it.  On  that  half  I  made 
my  supper,  without  salt  or  bread.  I  was  stfll  so  possessed 
with  the  dread  of  panthers,  that  I  could  not  close  my  eyes  all 
night,  but  lay  watching  the  trees  until  daybreak,  when  all  my 
fears  were  dispelled  with  the  darkness ;  and  as  I  saw  the  morn- 
ing sim  sparkling  down  through  the  branches  cf  the  trees,  I 
smiled  to  think  how  I  had  suiTered  myself  to  be  dismayed  by 
sounds  and  shadows:  but  I  was  a  yomig  woodsman,  and  a 
strangq^  in  Kentucky. 

''Having  breakfasted  on  the  remainder  of  my  turkey,  and 
slaked  my  tliirst  at  the  bubbling  stream,  without  further  dread 
of  panthers,  I  resumed  my  wayfaring  with  buoyant  feelings. 
I  again  saw  deer,  but  as  usual  running,  running!  I  tried  in 
vain  to  get  a  shot  at  them,  and  began  to  fear  I  never  should. 
I  was  gazing  in  vexation  after  a  herd  in  full  scamper,  when  I 
was  startled  by  a  human  voice.  Turning  round,  I  saw  a  man 
at  a  short  distance  from  me,  in  a  hunting-dress. 

"  'What  are  you  after,  my  lad?'  cried  he. 

"  'Those  deer,'  replied  I,  pettishly,  'but  it  seems  as  if  they 
never  stand  still.' 

"  Upon  that  he  burst  out  laughing.  '  Where  are  you  from?' 
said  he. 

" '  From  Eichmond.' 

'"What!   Inold  Virginny?' 

"'The  same.' 


an  AVON-  PAPFAiS. 


*'  'And  liovv  on  earth  did  you  get  here  V 

"  'I  landed  at  Green  River  from  a  broad-horn.' 

"  'And  where  are  your  companions?' 

"  'I  have  none.' 

'"What?— all  alone!' 

"'Yes/ 

"  '  Where  are  you  going?  ^ 
"  'Anywhere.' 

"  '  And  what  have  you  come  here  for  ? ' 
'"To  hunt' 

"'Well,'  said  he,  laughingly,  'you'll  make  a  real  hunter^ 
there's  no  mistaking  that !   Have  you  killed  anything? ' 

"  'Notliing  but  a  turkey;  I  can't  get  within  shot  of  a  deer: 
they  are  always  running. ' 

"  '  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  the  secret  of  that.  You're  always  pushing 
forward,  and  starting  the  deer  at  a  distance,  and  gazing  at 
those  that  are  scampering;  but  you  must  step  as  slow,  and 
silent,  and  cautious  as  a  cat,  and  keep  your  eyes  close  around 
you,  and  lurk  from  tree  to  tree,  if  you  wish  to  get  a  chance  at 
deer.  But  come,  go  home  with  me.  My  name  is  Bill  Smithers ; 
I  live  not  far  off :  stay  with  me  a  little  while,  and  I'll  teach  you 
how  to  hunt.' 

"I  gladly  accepted  the  invitation  of  honest  Bill  Smithers. 
We  soon  reached  his  habitation ;  a  mere  log  hut,  with  a  square 
hole  for  a  window,  and  a  chimney  made  of  sticks  and  clay. 
Here  he  lived,  with  a  wife  and  child.  He  had  '  girdled '  the 
trees  for  an  acre  or  two  around,  preparatory  to  clearing  a 
space  for  corn  and  potatoes.  In  the  mean  time  he  maintained 
his  family  entirely  by  his  rifle,  and  I  soon  found  him  to  be  a 
first-rate  huntsman.  Under  his  tutelage  I  received  my  first 
effective  lessons  in  'woodcraft.' 

"The  more  I  knew  of  a  hunter's  life,  the  more  I  relished  it. 
The  country,  too,  which  had  been  the  promised  land  of  my 
boyhood,  did  not,  like  most  promised  lands,  disappoint  me. 
No  wilderness  could  be  more  beautiful  than  this  part  of  Ken- 
tucky, in  those  times.  The  forests  were  open  and  spacious, 
with  noble  trees,  some  of  which  looked  as  if  they  had  stood  for 
centuries.  -There  were  beautiful  prairies,  too,  diversified  with 
groves  and  clumps  of  trees,  which  looked  like  vast  parks, 
and  in  which  you  could  see  the  deer  nmning,  at  a  gi^eat  dis- 
tance. In  the  proper  season  these  prairies  would  be  covered 
in  many  places  with  wild  strawberries,  where  your  horse's 
hoofs  would  be  dyed  to  the  fetlock.    I  thought  there  could  not 


EARLY  KXPliJRlENCES  OF  UALPIl  IlINGWOOD.    ]  27 


be  another  place  in  the  world  equal  to  Kentucky— and  I  tliink 
BO  still. 

' '  After  I  had  passed  ten  or  twelve  days  with  Bill  Smithe]*B, 
I  thought  it  time  to  shift  my  quarters,  for  his  house  was 
scarce  large  enough  ioY  his  own  family,  and  I  had  no  idea  of 
being  an  incumbrance  to  any  one.  I  accordingly  made  up  my 
bundle,  shouldered  my  rifle,  took  a  friendly  leave  of  Smithers 
and  his  wife,  and  set  out  in  quest  of  a  Nimrod  of  the  wilderness, 
one  John  Miller,  who  lived  alone,  nearly  forty  miles  olf ,  and 
who  I  hoped  would  be  well  pleased  to  have  a  hunting  com- 
panion. 

"I  soon  found  out  that  one  of  the  most  important  items  in 
woodcraft  in  a  new  country  was  the  skill  to  find  one's  way  in 
the  wilderness.  There  were  no  regular  roads  in  the  forests, 
but  they  were  cut  up  and  perplexed  by  paths  leading  in  all 
directions.  Some  of  these  w-ere  made  by  the  cattle  of  the  set- 
tlers, and  were  called  'stock-tracks,'  but  others  had  been  made 
by  the  immense  droves  of  buffaloes  which  roamed  about  the 
country,  from  the  flood  until  recent  times.  These  were  called 
buffalo-tracks,  and  traversed  Kentucky  from  end  to  end,  like 
highways.  Traces  of  them  may  still  be  seen  in  uncultivated 
parts,  or  deeply  worn  in  the  rocks  where  they  crossed  the 
mountains.  I  was  a  young  Avoodsman,  and  sorely  puzzled  to 
distinguish  one  kind  of  track  from  the  other,  or  to  make  out 
my  course  through  this  tangled  labyrinth.  While  thus  per- 
plexed, I  heard  a  distant  roaring  and  rushing  sound ;  a  gloom 
stole  over  the  forest :  on  looking  up,  when  I  could  catch  a  stray 
glimpse  of  the  sky,  I  beheld  the  clouds  rolled  up  like  balls,  the 
lower  parts  as  black  as  ink.  There  was  now  and  then  an  ex- 
plosion, like  a  burst  of  cannonry  afar  off,  and  the  crash  of  a 
falling  tree.  I  had  heard  of  hurricanes  in  the  woods,  and  sur- 
mised that  one  was  at  hand.  It  soon  came  crashing  its  way ; 
the  forest  writhing,  and  twisting,  and  groaning  before  it.  The 
hurricane  did  not  extend  far  on  either  side,  but  in  a  manner 
X^loughed  a  furrow  through  the  woodland ;  snapping  off  or  up- 
rooting trees  that  had  stood  for  centuries,  and  filling  the  air 
with  whirling  branches.  I  was  directly  in  its  course,  and  took 
my  stand  behind  an  immense  poplar,  six  feet  in  diameter.  It 
bore  for  a  time  the  full  fury  of  the  blast,  bat  at  length  began 
to  yield.  Seeing  it  falling,  I  scrambled  nimbly  round  the 
trunk  lilce  a  squirrel.  Down  it  went,  bearing  down  another 
tree  with  it.  I  crept  under  the  trunk  as  a  shelter,  and  was 
protected  from  othei-  trees  which  foil  around  me,  but  was  sore 


128 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


all  over  from  the  twigs  and  branches  driven  against  me  by  the 
blast. 

"Tliiswas  the  only  incident  of  consequence  that  occurred 
on  my  way  to  John  Miller's,  where  I  arrived  on  the  following 
day,  and  was  received  by  the  veteran  with  the  rougli  kindness 
of  a  backwoodsman.  He  was  a  gray -haired  man,  hardy  and 
weather-beaten,  with  a  blue  wart,  like  a  great  bead,  over  one 
eye,  whence  he  was  nicknamed  by  the  hunters  '  Blue-bead 
Miller. '  He  had  been  in  these  parts  from  the  earliest  settle- 
ments, and  had  signalized  himself  in  the  hard  conflicts  with 
the  Indians,  which  gained  Kentucky  the  api^ellation  of  '  the 
Bloody  Ground.'  In  one  of  these  lights  he  had  had  an  arm 
broken ;  in  another  he  had  narrowly  escaped,  when  hotly  pur- 
sued, by  jumping  from  a  precipice  thirtj^feet  high  into  a  river. 

' '  Miller  willingly  received  me  into  his  house  as  an  inmate, 
and  seemed  pleased  with  the  idea  of  making  a  hunter  of  me. 
His  dwelling  was  a  small  log-house,  with  a  loft  or  garret  of 
boards,  so  that  there  v*^as  ample  room  fcr  both  of  us.  Under 
his  instruction  I  soon  made  a  tolerable  proficiency  in  hunting. 
My  first  exploit,  of  any  consequence,  was  killing  a  bear.  I 
was  hunting  in  company  with  two  brothers,  when  we  came 
upon  the  track  of  Bruin,  in  a  wood  where  there  was  an  under- 
growth of  canes  and  grape-vines.  He  was  scrambling  up  a 
tree,  when  I  shot  him  through  the  breast :  he  feU  to  the  ground 
and  lay  motionless.  The  brothers  sent  in  their  dog,  who  seized 
the  bear  by  the  throat.  Bruin  raised  one  arm,  and  gave  the 
dog  a  hug  that  crushed  his  ribs.  One  yell,  and  all  was  over. 
I  don't  know  which  was  first  dead,  the  dog  or  the  bear.  The 
two  brothers  sat  down  and  cried  like  children  over  their  un- 
fortunate dog.  Yet  they  were  mere  rough  huntsmen,  almost 
as  wild  and  untameable  as  Indians :  but  they  were  fine  fellows. 

"By  degrees  I  became  known,  and  somewhat  of  a  favorite 
among  the  hunters  of  the  neighborhood ;  that  is  to  say,  men 
who  lived  within  a  circle  of  thirty  or  forty  miles,  and  came 
occasionally  to  see  John  Miller,  who  was  a  patriarch  among 
them.  They  lived  widely  apart,  in  log  huts  and  wigwams, 
almost  with  the  simplicity  of  Indians,  and  well-nigh  as  desti- 
tute of  the  comforts  and  inventions  of  civilized  life.  They 
seldom  saw  each  other ;  weeks,  and  even  months  Avould  elapse, 
without  their  visiting.  When  they  did  meet,  it  was  very 
much  after  the  manner  of  Indians;  loitering  about  all  day, 
without  having  much  to  say,  but  becoming  communicative  as 
evening  advanced,  and  sitting  up  half  the  night  before  the  fire, 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  129 


telling  hunting  stories,  and^  terrible  tales  of  the  fights  of  the 
Bloody  Ground. 

"Sometimes  several  would  join  in  a  distant  hunting  expedi- 
ti(^n,  or  rather  campaign.  Expeditions  of  this  kind  lasted  from 
November  until  April ;  during  which  we  laid  up  our  stock  of 
summer  provisions.  We  shifted  our  hunting  camps  from 
place  to  place,  according  as  we  found  the  game.  They  were 
generally  pitched  near  a  run  of  water,  and  close  by  a  cane-brake, 
to  screen  us  from  the  wind.  One  side  of  our  lodge  was  open 
toward  the  fire.  Our  horses  were  hoppled  and  turned  loose  in 
the  cane-brakes,  with  bells  round  their  necks.  One  of  the 
party  stayed  at  home  to  watch  the  camp,  prepare  the  meals, 
and  keep  off  the  wolves;  the  others  hunted.  When  a  hunter 
killed  a  deer  at  a  distance  from  the  camp,  he  would  open  it  and 
take  out  the  entrails ;  then  climbing  a  sapling,  he  would  bend 
it  down,  tie  the  deer  to  the  top,  and  let  it  spring  up  again,  so 
as  to  suspend  the  carcass  out  of  reach  of  the  wolves.  At  night 
he  would  return  to  the  camp,  and  give  an  account*  of  his  luck. 
The  next  morning  early  he  would  get  a  horse  out  of  the  cane- 
brake  and  bring  home  his  game.  That  day  he  would  stay  at 
home  to  cut  up  the  carcass,  while  the  others  hunted. 

"  Our  days  were  thus  spent  in  silent  and  lonely  occupations. 
It  was  only  at  night  that  we  would  gather  together  before  the 
fire,  and  be  sociable.  I  was  a  novice,  and  used  to  listen  with 
open  eyes  and  ears  to  the  strange  and  wild  stories  told  by  the 
old  hunters,  and  believed  everything  I  heard.  Some  of  their 
stories  bordered  upon  the  supernatural.  They  believed  that 
their  rifles  might  be  spell-bound,  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  kill  a 
buffalo,  even  at  arm's  length.  This  superstition  they  had 
derived  from  the  Indians,  who  often  think  the  white  hunters 
have  laid  a  spell  upon  their  rifles.  Miller  partook  of  this 
superstition,  and  used  to  tell  of  his  rifle's  having  a  spell  upon 
it ;  but  it  often  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  shuffling  way  of  account- 
ing for  a  bad  shot.  If  a  hunter  grossly  missed  his  aim  he 
would  ask,  'Who  shot  last  with  this  rifle?' — and  hint  that  he 
must  have  charmed  it.  The  sure  mode  to  disenchant  the  gun 
was  to  shoot  a  silver  bullet  out  of  it. 

"  By  the  opening  of  spring  we  would  generally  have  quanti- 
ties of  bear's-meat  and  venison  salted,  dried,  and  smoked,  and 
numerous  packs  of  skins.  We  would  then  make  the  best  of 
our  way  home  from  our  distant  hunting-grounds ;  transporting 
our  spoils,  sometimes  in  canoes  along  the  rivers,  sometimes 
on  horseback  over  land,  and  our  return  would  often  be  celo- 


130 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


brated  by  feasting  and  dancing,  in  true  backwoods  style.  I 
have  given  you  some  idea  of  our  hunting ;  let  me  now  give  you 
a  sketch  of  our  frolicking. 

''It  was  on  our  return  from  a  winter  s  hunting  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Green  River,  when  we  received  notice  that  tliore 
was  to  b(;  a  grand  frolic  at  Bob  Mosely's,  to  gi-eet  the  hunters. 
This  Bob  Mosely  was  a  prime  fellow  throughout  the  country. 
He  was  an  indifferent  hunter,  it  is  true,  and  rather  lazy  to 
boot ;  but  then  he  could  play  the  fiddle,  and  that  was  enough 
to  make  hmi  of  consequence.  Ther^  was  no  other  man  within 
a  hundred  miles  that  could  play  the  fiddle,  so  there  was  no 
having  a  regular  frolic  without  Bob  !Mosely.  The  hunters, 
therefore,  were  always  ready  to  give  him  a  share  of  their 
game  in  exchange  for  his  music,  and  Bob  was  always  ready  to 
get  up  a  carousal,  whenever  there  was  a  party  retm-ning  from 
a  hunting  expedition.  The  present  frohc  was  to  take  place 
at  Bob  Mosely's  own  house,  which  was  on  the  Pigeon  Eoost 
Fork  of  the  Muddy,  which  is  a  branch  of  Rough  Creek,  which 
is  a  branch  of  Green  River. 

"Everybody  was  agog  for  the  revel  at  Bob  Moseley's;  and  as 
all  the  fashion  of  the  neighborhood  was  to  be  there,  I  thought 
I  must  brush  up  for  the  occasion.  My  leathern  hunting-dress, 
which  was  the  only  one  I  had,  was  somewhat  the  worse  for 
wear,  it  is  true,  and  considerably  japaimed  with  blood  and 
gi'ease;  but  I  was  up  to  hunting  expedients.  Getting  into  a 
periogue,  I  paddled  off  to  a  part  of  the  Green  River  where 
there  was  sand  and  clay,  that  ixdght  serve  for  soap ;  then  taking 
off  my  dress,  I  scrubbed  and  scoured  it,  until  I  thought  it  looked 
very  well.  I  then  put  it  on  the  end  of  a  stick,  and  hung  it  out 
of  the  periog-ue  to  dry,  while  I  stretched  myself  very  comfort- 
ably on  the  green  bank  of  the  river.  Unluckily  a  flaw  struck 
the  periogue,  and  tipped  over  the  stick :  down  went  my  dress 
to  the  bottom  of  the  river,  and  I  never  saw  it  more.  Here  was 
I,  left  almost  in  a  state  of  nature.  I  managed  to  make  a  kind 
of  Robinson  Crusoe  garb  of  undressed  skins,  with  the  hair  on. 
wliicli  enabled  me  to  get  home  with  decency;  but  my  dream  of 
gayety  and  fashion  was  at  an  end ;  for  how  could  I  tliink  of 
figLiring  in  high  life  at  the  Pigeon  Roost,  equipped  like  a  mere 
Orson? 

' '  Old  Miller,  who  really  began  to  take  some  pride  in  me,  was 
confounded  when  ho  understood  that  I  did  not  intend  to  go  to 
Bob  Mosely's ;  but  when  I  told  him  my  niisf ortiuie,  and  that  I 
had  no  dress:  '  By  the  powers,'  cried  he,  '  but  you  shall  go,  and 


KAULT  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RINGWOOD.  131 


you  shall  be  the  best  dressed  and  the  best  mounted  lad 
there ! ' 

"He  immediately  set  to  work  to  cut  out  and  make  up  a 
hunting-shirt  of  dressed  deer-skin,  gayly  fringed  at  the  shoul- 
ders, with  leggings  of  the  same,  fringed  from  hip  to  heel.  He 
then  made  me  a  rakish  raccoon-cap,  with  a  flaunting  tail  to  it ; 
mounted  me  on  his  best  horse ;  and  I  may  say,  wdthout  vanity, 
that  I  was  one  of  the  smartest  fellows  that  figured  on  that 
occasion,  at  the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of  the  Muddy. 

"It  was  no  small  occasion,  either,  let  me  tell  you.  Bob 
Mosely's  house  was  a  tolerably  large  bark  shanty,  with  a  clap- 
board roof ;  and  there  were  assembled  all  the  young  hunters  and 
pretty  girls  of  the  country,  for  many  a  mile  round.  The  young 
men  were  in  their  best  hunting-dresses,  but  not  one  could  com- 
pare with  mine ;  and  my  raccoon-cap,  with  its  flowing  tail ,  was 
the  admiration  of  everybody.  The  girls  were  mostly  in  doe- 
skin dresses ;  for  there  was  no  spinning  and  weaving  as  yet  in 
the  woods ;  nor  any  need  of  it.  I  never  saw  girls  that  seemed 
to  me  better  dressed ;  and  I  was  somewhat  of  a  judge,  having 
seen  fashions  at  Richmond.  We  had  a  hearty  dinner,  and  a 
merry  one ;  for  there  was  Jemmy  Kiel,  famous  for  raccoon- 
hunting,  and  Bob  Tarleton,  and  Wesley  Pigman,  and  Joe  Tay- 
lor, and  several  other  prime  fellows  for  a  frolic,  that  made  all 
ring  again,  and  laughed,  that  you  might  have  heard  them  a 
mile. 

"After  dinner  we  began  dancing,  and  were  hard  at  it,  when, 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  a  new  arrival— 
the  two  daughters  of  old  Simon  Schultz ;  two  young  ladies  that 
affected  fashion  and  late  hours.  Their  arrival  had  nearly  put 
an  end  to  all  our  merriment.  I  must  go  a  little  roundabout  in 
my  story  to  explain  to  you  how  that  happened. 

"  As  old  Schultz,  the  father,  was  one  day  looking  in  the  cane- 
brakes  for  his  cattle,  he  came  upon  the  track  of  horses.  Ho 
knew  they  were  none  of  his,  and  that  none  of  his  neighbors  had 
horses  about  that  place.  They  must  be  stray  horses ;  or  must 
belong  to  some  traveller  who  had  lost  his  way,  as  the  track  led 
nowhere.  He  accordingly  followed  it  up,  imtil  he  came  to  an 
unlucky  peddler,  with  tv\^o  or  three  pack-horses,  who  had  been 
bewildered  among  the  cattle-tracks,  and  had  wandered  for  two 
or  three  days  among  woods  and  cane-brakes,  until  he  was  almost 
famished. 

"  Old  Schultz  brought  him  to  his  house ;  fed  him  on  venison, 
bear's  meat,  and  hominy,  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  put  him  in 


132 


TUB  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


prime  condition.  The  peddler  could  not  sufficiently  express  his 
thankfulness ;  and  when  about  to  depart,  inquired  what  he  had 
to  pay  ^  Old  Schultz  stepped  back  with  surprise.  '  Stranger,' 
said  he,  '  you  have  been  welcome  mider  my  roof.  I've  given 
you  nothing  but  wild  meat  and  hominy,  because  I  had  no  bet- 
ter, but  have  been  glad  of  your  company.  You  are  welcome 
to  stay  as  long  as  you  please ;  but,  by  Zounds !  if  any  one  offers 
to  pay  Simon  Schultz  for  food  he  affronts  him ! '  So  saying,  he 
walked  out  in  a  huff. 

"  The  peddler  admired  the  hospitality  of  his  host,  but  could 
not  reconcile  it  to  his  conscience  to  go  away  without  making 
some  recompense.  There  were  honest  Simon's  two  daughters, 
two  strapping,  red-haired  girls.  He  opened  his  packs  and  dis- 
played riches  before  them  of  which  they  had  no  conception ; 
for  in  those  days  there  were  no  country  stores  in  those  parts, 
with  their  artificial  finery  and  trinketry ;  and  this  was  the  fii*st 
peddler  that  had  wandered  into  that  jxirt  of  the  wilderness. 
The  girls  were  for  a  time  completely  dazzled,  and  knew  not 
what  to  choose:  but  what  caught  tlieir  eyes  most  were  two 
looking-glasses,  about  the  size  of  a  dollar,  set  in  gilt  tin.  They 
had  never  seen  the  like  before,  having  used  no  other  mirror 
than  a  pail  of  water.  The  peddler  i^resented  them  with  these 
jewels,  without  the  least  hesitation;  nay,  he  gallantly  hung 
them  round  their  necks  by  red  ribbons,  almost  as  fine  as  the 
glasses  themselves.  This  done,  he  took  his  departure,  leaving 
them  as  much  astonished  as  two  princesses  in  a  fairy  tale,  that 
have  received  a  magic  gift  from  an  enchanter. 

**It  was  with  these  looking-glasses,  hung  round  their  necks 
as  lockets,  by  red  ribbons,  that  old  Schultz's  daughters  made 
their  appearance  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  at  the  frolic 
at  Bob  Mosely's,  on  the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of  the  Muddy. 

''By  the  powers,  but  it  was  an  event!  Such  a  thing  had 
never  before  been  seen  in  Kentucky.  Bob  Tarleton,  a  strap- 
ping fellow,  with  a  head  like  a  chestnut-burr,  and  a  look  like  a 
boar  in  an  apple  orchard,  stepped  up,  caught  hold  of  the  look- 
ing-glass of  one  of  the  girls,  and  gazing  at  it  for  a  moment, 
cried  out :  '  Joe  Taylor,  corne  here !  come  here !  I'll  be  dara'd 
if  Patty  Schultz  ain't  got  a  locket  that  you  can  see  your  face  in, 
as  clear  as  in  a  spring  of  water ! ' 

**  In  a  twinkling  all  the  young  hunters  gathered  round  old 
Schultz's  daughters.  I,  who  knew  what  looking-glasses  wore, 
did  not  budge.  Some  of  the  girls  who  sat  near  me  were  ex- 
cessively mortified  at  finding  themselves  thu5  deserted.  I  hea..  d 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  133 


Peggy  Pugh  say  to  Sally  Pigman,  *  Goodness  knows,  it's  well 
Schiiltz's  daughters  is  got  them  things  round  their  necks,  for 
it's  the  lirst  time  the  young  men  crowded  round  them ! ' 

"1  saw  immediately  the  danger  of  the  case.  We  were  a 
small  community,  and  could  not  afford  to  be  spht  up  by  feuds. 
So  1  stepped  up  to  the  girls,  and  whispered  to  them:  'Polly,' 
said  I,  'those  lockets  are  powerful  fine,  and  become  you 
amazingly;  but  you  don't  consider  that  the  country  is  not 
advanced  enough  in  these  parts  for  such  things.  You  and  I 
understand  these  matters,  but  these  people  don't.  Fine  things 
like  these  may  do  very  well  in  the  old  settlements,  but  they 
won't  answer  at  the  Pigeon  Eoost  Fork  of  the  Muddy.  You 
had  better  lay  them  aside  for  the  present,  or  we  shall  have  no 
peace.' 

"  Polly  and  her  sister  luckily  saw  their  error;  they  took  off 
the  lockets,  laid  them  aside,  and  harmony  was  restored :  other- 
wise, I  verily  believe  there  would  have  been  an  end  of  our 
commLmity.  Indeed,  notwithstanding  the  great  sacrifice  they 
made  on  this  occasion,  I  do  not  think  old  Schultz's  daughters 
were  ever  much  liked  afterward  among  the  young  womxcn. 

"  This  was  the  first  time  that  looking-glasses  were  ever  seen 
in  the  Green  River  part  of  Kentucky. 

' '  I  had  now  lived  some  time  w^th  old  Miller,  and  had  become 
a  tolerably  expert  hunter.  Game,  however,  began  to  grow 
scarce.  The  buffalo  had  gathered  together,  as  if  by  universal 
understanding,  and  had  crossed  the  Mississippi,  never  to  re- 
turn. Strangers  kept  pouring  into  the  country,  clearing  away 
the  forests,  and  building  in  all  directions.  The  hunters  began 
to  grow  restive.  Jemmy  Kiel,  the  same  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken  for  his  skill  in  raccoon  catching,  came  to  me  one  day : 
'  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,'  said  he ;  '  w^e're  getting  too  thick 
here.  Simon  Schultz  crowds  me  so,  that  I  have  no  comfort  of 
my  life, ' 

"  '  "Why,  how  you  talk ! '  said  I ;  '  Simon  Schultz  lives  twelve 
miles  off.' 

"  'No  matter;  his  cattle  run  with  mine,  and  I've  no  idea  of 
living  where  nnothcr  man's  cattle  can  run  with  mine.  That's 
too  close  neighborhood;  I  want  elbow-room.  This  countr}-, 
too,  is  gi'owing  too  poor  to  live  in ;  there's  no  game ;  so  two  or 
three  of  us  have  made  up  oiu'  minds  to  follow  the  buffalo  to  the 
Missouri,  and  we  should  like  to  have  you  of  the  party.'  Other 
hunters  of  my  acquaintance  talked  in  the  same  manner.  This 
set  me  thinking;  but  the  more  I  thought  the  more  I  was  per- 


VM 


THE  CRA  YON  PAPERS. 


plexod.  I  had  no  one  to  advise  TNdth ;  old  Miller  and  h^.s  asso- 
ciates knew  but  of  one  mode  of  life,  and  I  had  had  no  experience 
in  any  other:  but  I  had  a  wider  scope  of  thought.  When  out 
hunting  alone  I  used  to  forget  the  sport,  and  sit  for  hours  to- 
gether on  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  with  rifle  in  hand,  buried  in 
tliought,  and  debating  with  myself :  '  Shall  I  go  with  Jenmiy 
Kiel  and  his  company,  or  shall  I  remain  here?  If  I  remain  here 
there  will  soon  be  nothing  left  to  hunt ;  but  am  I  to  be  a  hunter 
all  my  life?  Have  not  I  something  more  in  me  than  to  be 
carrying  a  rifle  on  my  shoulder,  day  after  day,  and  dodging 
about  after  bears,  and  deer,  and  other  brute  beasts? '  My  vanity 
told  me  I  had ;  and  I  called  to  mind  my  boyish  boast  to  my 
sister,  that  I  would  never  return  home,  until  I  returned  a 
member  of  Congress  from  Kentucky ;  but  was  this  the  way  to 
fit  myself  for  such  a  station? 

"Various  plans  passed  through  my  mind,  but  they  were 
abandoned  almost  as  soon  as  formed.  At  length  I  determined 
on  becoming  a  lawyer.  True  it  is,  I  knew  almost  nothing.  I 
had  left  school  before  I  had  learned  beyond  the  '  rule  of  three.' 
'  Never  mind, '  said  I  to  myself,  resolutely ;  '  I  am  a  terrible 
fellow  for  hanging  on  to  anything  when  I've  once  made  up  my 
mind ;  and  if  a  man  has  but  ordinary  capacity,  and  will  set  to 
work  with  heart  and  soul,  and  stick  to  it,  he  can  do  almost 
anything.'  With  this  maxim,  which  has  been  pretty  much 
my  main-stay  throughout  life,  I  fortified  myself  in  my  deter- 
mination to  attempt  the  law.  But  how  was  I  to  set  about  it? 
I  must  quit  this  forest  life,  and  go  to  one  or  other  of  the  towns, 
where  I  might  be  able  to  study,  and  to  attend  the  courts.  This 
too  required  funds.  I  examined  into  the  state  of  my  finances. 
The  purse  given  me  by  my  father  had  remained  untouched,  in 
the  bottom  of  an  old  chest  up  in  the  loft,  for  money  was  scarcely 
needed  in  these  parts.  I  had  bargained  away  the  skins  ac- 
quired in  hunting,  for  a  horse  and  various  other  matters,  on 
which,  in  case  of  need,  I  could  raise  funds.  I  therefore  thought 
I  could  make  shift  to  maintain  myself  imtil  I  was  fitted  for  the 
bar. 

"  I  informed  my  worthy  host  and  patron,  old  Miller,  of  my 
plan.  He  shook  his  head  at  my  turning  my  back  upon  the 
woods,  when  I  was  in  a  fair  way  of  making  a  first-rate  hunter ; 
but  he  made  no  effort  to  dissuade  me.  I  accordingly  set  off  in 
September,  on  horseback,  intending  to  visit  Lexington,  Frank- 
fort, and  other  of  the  principal  towns,  in  search  of  a  favorable 
place  to  prosecute  my  studies.    My  choice  was  made  sooner 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  135 


than  I  expected.  I  had  put  up  one  night  at  Bardstown,  and 
found,  on  inquiry,  that  I  could  get  comfortable  board  and  ac- 
commodation in  a  private  family  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  week. 
I  liked  the  j^lace,  and  resolved  to  look  no  farther.  So  the  next 
morning  I  prepared  to  turn  my  face  homeward,,  and  take  my 
final  leave  of  forest  life. 

"I  had  taken  my  breakfast,  and  was  waiting  for  my  horse, 
when,  m  pacing  up  and  down  the  piazza,  I  saw  a  young  girl 
seated  near  a  window,  evidently  a  visitor.  She  was  very 
pretty;  with  auburn  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  was  dressed  in 
white.  I  had  seen  nothing  of  the  kind  since  I  had  left  Rich- 
mond ;  and  at  that  time  I  was  too  much  of  a  boy  to  be  much 
struck  by  female  charms.  She  was  so  delicate  and  dainty- 
looking,  so  different  from  the  hale,  buxom,  brown  girls  of  the 
woods ;  and  then  her  white  dress ! — it  was  perfectly  dazzling ! 
Never  was  poor  youth  more  taken  by  surprise,  and  suddenly 
bewitched.  My  heart  yearned  to  know  her;  but  how  was  I 
to  accost  her?  I  had  grown  wild  in  the  woods,  and  had  none 
of  the  habitudes  of  polite  life.  Had  she  been  like  Peggy  Pugh 
or  Sally  Pigman,  or  any  other  of  my  leathern-dressed  belles  of 
the  Pigeon  Roost,  I  should  have  approached  her  without  dread ; 
nay,  had  she  been  as  fair  as  Scliultz's  daughters,  with  their 
looking-glass  lockets,  I  should  not  have  hesitated;  but  that 
white  dress,  and  those  auburn  ringlets,  and  blue  eyes,  and  deli- 
cate locks,  quite  daunted,  while  they  fascinated  me.  I  don't 
know  what  put  it  into  my  head,  but  I  thought,  all  at  once,  that 
I  would  kiss  her !  It  would  take  a  long  acquaintance  to  arrive 
at  such  a  boon,  but  I  might  seize  upon  it  by  sheer  robbery. 
Nobody  knew  me  here.  I  would  just  step  in,  snatch  a  kiss, 
mount  my  horse,  and  ride  off.  She  would  not  be  the  worse  for 
it ;  and  that  kiss — oh !  I  should  die  if  I  did  not  get  it ! 

"I  gave  no  time  for  the  thought  to  cool,  but  entered  the 
house,  and  stepped  lightly  into  the  room.  She  was  seated  with 
her  back  to  the  door,  looking  out  at  the  window,  and  did  not 
hear  my  approach.  I  tapped  her  chair,  and  as  she  turned  and 
looked  up,  I  snatched  as  sweet  a  kiss  as  ever  was  stolen,  and 
vanished  in  a  twinkling.  The  next  moment  I  was  on  horse- 
back, galloping  homeward;  my  very  ears  tinghng  at  what  I 
had  done. 

"On  my  return  home  I  sold  my  horse,  and  turned  every 
thing  to  cash;  and  found,  with  the  remains  of  the  paternal 
purse,  that  I  bad  nearly  four  hundred  dollars;  a  little  capital 
which  I  resolved  to  manage  with  the  strictest  economy. 


136 


THE  CRA  YON  PAPERS. 


"It  was  hard  parting  with  old  Miller,  who  had  heen  Hke  a 
father  to  me ;  it  cost  me,  too,  something  of  a  struggle  to  give 
up  the  free,  independent  wild-wood  life  I  had  hitherto  led ;  but 
I  had  marked  out  my  course,  and  had  never  been  one  to  flinch 
or  turn  back. 

"I  footed  it  sturdily  to  Bardstown;  took  possession  of  the 
quarters  for  which  I  had  bargained,  shut  myself  up,  and  set  to 
work  with  might  and  main  to  study.  But  what  a  task  I  had 
before  me !  I  hpvd  everything  to  learn ;  not  merely  law,  but  all 
the  elementary  branches  of  knowledge.  I  read  and  read,  for 
sixteen  hours  out  of  the  f our-and-twenty ;  but  the  more  I  read 
the  more  I  became  aware  of  my  own  ignorance,  and  shed  bitter 
tears  over  my  deficiency.  It  seemed  as  if  the  wilderness  of 
knowledge  expanded  and  grew  more  perplexed  as  I  advanced. 
Every  height  gained  only  revealed  a  wider  region  to  be  trav- 
ersed, and  nearly  filled  me  with  despair.  I  grew  moody,  silent, 
and  unsocial,  but  studied  on  doggedly  and  incessantly.  The 
only  person  with  whom  I  held  any  conversation  was  the  worthy 
man  in  vv^hose  house  I  was  quartered.  He  was  honest  and  well- 
meaning,  but  perfectly  ignorant,  and  I  beheve  would  have 
liked  me  much  better  if  I  had  not  been  so  much  addicted  to 
reading.  He  considered  all  books  fiUed  with  lies  and  imposi- 
tions, and  seldom  could  look  into  one  without  finding  something 
to  rouse  his  spleen.  Nothing  put  him  into  a  gi^eater  passion 
than  the  assertion  that  the  world  turned  on  its  own  axis  every 
f  our-and-twenty  hours.  He  swore  it  was  an  outrage  upon  com- 
mon sense.  '  Why,  if  it  did, '  said  he,  '  there  would  not  be  a 
drop  of  water  in  the  well  by  morning,  and  all  the  milk  and 
cream  in  the  dairy  would  be  turned  topsy-turvy !  And  then  to 
talk  of  the  earth  going  round  the  sun!  How  do  they  know  it? 
I've  seen  the  sun  rise  every  morning,  and  set  every  evening,  for 
more  than  thirty  years.  They  must  not  talk  to  me  about  the 
earth's  going  round  the  sun ! ' 

"At  another  time  he  was  in  a  perfect  fret  at  being  told  the 
distance  between  the  sun  and  moon.  '  How  can  any  one  teU 
the  distance?'  cried  he.  'Who  surveyed  it?  who  carried  the 
chain?  By  Jupiter !  they  only  talk  this  way  before  me  to  annoy 
me.  But  then  there's  some  people  of  sense  who  give  in  to  tliis 
cursed  humbug !  There's  Judge  Broadnax,  now,  one  of  the  best 
la^vyers  we  have ;  isn't  it  surprising  he  should  believe  in  such 
stuff  ?  Why,  sir,  the  other  da>  I  heard  him  talk  of  the  distance 
from  a  star  he  called  Mars  to  the  sun !  He  must  have  got  it 
out  of  one  or  other  of  those  confounded  books  he's  so  fond  of 


EARL7  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  137 


reading;  a  book  some  impudent  fellow  has  written,  who  knew 
nobody  could  swear  the  distance  was  more  or  less.' 

"  For  my  own  part,  feeling  my  own  deficiency  in  scientific 
lore,  I  never  ventured  to  unsettle  his  conviction  that  the  sun 
made  his  daily  circuit  round  the  eai-th ;  and  for  aught  I  said  to 
the  contrary,  he  lived  and  died  in  that  belief. 

"I  had  been  about  a  year  at  Bardstown,  living  thus  stu- 
diously and  reclusely,  when,  as  I  was  one  day  walking  the 
street,  I  met  two  young  girls,  in  one  of  whom  I  immediately 
recalled  the  little  beauty  whom  I  had  kissed  so  impudently. 
She  blushed  up  to  the  eyes,  and  so  did  I ;  but  we  both  passed 
on  without  further  sign  of  recognition.  This  second  glimpse  of 
her,  however,  caused  an  odd  fluttering  about  my  heart.  I 
could  not  get  her  out  of  my  thoughts  for  days.  She  quite 
interfered  with  my  studies.  I  tried  to  think  of  her  as  a  mere 
child,  but  it  would  not  do ;  she  had  improved  in  beauty,  and 
was  tending  toward  womanhood ;  and  then  I  myself  was  but 
little  better  than  a  stripling.  However,  I  did  not  attempt  to 
seek  after  her,  or  even  to  find  out  who  she  was,  but  returned 
doggedly  to  my  books.  By  degrees  she  faded  from  my 
thoughts,  or  if  she  did  cross  them  occasionally,  it  was  only  to 
increase  my  despondency ;  for  I  feared  that  with  all  my  exer- 
tions, I  should  never  be  able  to  fit  myself  for  the  bar,  or  enable 
myself  to  support  a  wife. 

"One  cold  stormy  evening  I  was  seated,  in  dumpish  mood, 
in  the  bar-room  of  the  inn,  looking  into  the  fire,  and  turnmg 
over  uncomfortable  thoughts,  when  I  was  accosted  by  some 
one  who  had  entered  the  room  without  my  perceiving  it.  I 
looked  up,  and  saw  before  me  a  tall  and,  as  I  thought,  pom- 
pous-looking man,  arrayed  in  small-clothes  and  knee-buckles, 
with  powdered  head,  and  shoes  nicely  blacked  and  polished; 
a  style  of  dress  unparalleled  in  those  days,  in  that  rough 
country.  I  took  a  pique  against  him  from  the  very  portlinesa 
of  his  appearance,  and  stateliness  of  his  manner,  and  bristled 
up  as  he  accosted  me.  He  demanded  if  my  name  was  noli 
Ringwood. 

' '  I  was  startled,  for  I  supposed  myself  perfectly  incog. ;  but 
I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

'  Your  family,  I  believe,  lives  in  Richmond? ' 

"My  gorge  began  to  rise.  'Yes,  sir,'  replied  I,  sulkily,  'my 
family  does  lives  in  Richmond.' 

"  '  And  what,  may  I  ask,  has  brought  you  into  this  part  of 
the  country?' 


138 


TUB  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


'Zounds,  sir! 'cried  I,  starting  on  my  feet,  'what  busi- 
ness is  it  of  yours?  How  dare  you  to  question  me  in  this 
manner? ' 

"The  entrance  of  some  persons  prevented  a  reply;  but  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  bar-room,  fuming  with  conscious  in- 
dependence and  insulted  dignity,  while  the  pompous-looking 
personage,  who  had  thus  trespassed  ui)on  my  spleen,  retired 
fsathout  proffering  another  word. 

"  The  next  day,  while  seated  in  my  room,  some  one  tapped  at 
the  door,  and,  on  being  bid  to  enter,  the  stranger  in  the  pow- 
dered head,  small-clothes,  and  shining  shoes  and  buckles, 
walked  in  with  ceremonious  courtesy, 

* '  My  boyish  pride  was  again  in  arms ;  but  he  subdued  me. 
He  was  formal,  but  kind  and  friendly.  He  knew  my  family 
and  understood  my  situation,  and  the  dogged  struggle  I  was 
making.  A  httle  conversation,  when  my  jealous  pride  was 
once  put  to  rest,  drew  everything  from  me.  He  was  a  lawyer 
of  experience  and  of  extensive  practice,  and  offered  at  once  to 
take  me  with  him,  and  direct  my  studies.  The  offer  was  too 
advantageous  and  gratifying  not  to  be  immediately  accepted. 
From  that  time  I  began  to  look  up.  I  was  put  into  a  proper 
track,  and  was  enabled  to  study  to  a  proper  purpose.  I  made 
acquaintance,  too,  with  some  of  the  young  men  of  the  place, 
who  were  in  the  same  pursuit,  and  was  encouraged  at  finding 
that  I  could  '  hold  my  own '  in  argument  with  them.  We  insti- 
tuted a  debating  club,  in  which  I  soon  became  prominent  and 
popular.  Men  of  talents,  engaged  in  other  pursuits,  joined  it, 
and  this  diversified  our  subjects,  and  put  me  on  various  tracks 
of  inquiry.  Ladies,  too,  attended  some  of  our  discussions,  atid 
this  gave  them  a  polite  tone,  and  had  an  influence  on  the  man- 
ners of  the  debaters.  My  legal  patron  also  may  have  had  a 
favorable  effect  in  correcting  any  roughness  contracted  in  m^- 
hunter's  life.  He  was  calculated  to  bend  me  in  an  opposite 
direction,  for  he  was  of  the  old  school ;  quoted  Chesterfield  on 
all  occasions,  and  talked  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  who  was 
his  beau  ideal.  It  was  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  however,  Ken- 
tuckyized. 

' '  I  had  always  been  fond  of  female  society.  My  experience, 
however,  had  hitherto  been  among  the  rough  daughters  of  the 
backwoodsmen;  and  I  felt  an  awe  of  young  ladies  in  'store 
clothes, '  and  delicately  brought  up.  Two  or  three  of  the  mar- 
ried ladies  of  Bardstown,  who  had  heard  me  at  the  debating 
club,  determined  that  I  was  a  genius,  and  undertook  to  bring 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  139 


me  out.  I  believe  I  really  Snproved  under  their  hands ;  became 
quiet  where  I  had  been  shy  or  sulky,  and  easy  where  I  had 
been  impudent. 

''I  called  to  take  tea  one  evening  with  one  of  these  ladies, 
when  to  my  surprise,  and  somewhat  to  my  confusion,  I  found 
with  her  the  identical  blue-eyed  little  beauty  whom  I  had  so 
audaciously  kissed.  I  was  formally  introduced  to  her,  but 
neitlier  of  us  betrayed  any  sign  of  previous  acquaintance,  ex- 
cept by  blushing  to  the  eyes.  While  tea  was  getting  ready, 
the  lady  of  the  house  went  out  of  the  room  to  give  some  direc- 
tions, and  left  us  alone. 

"Heavens  and  earth,  what  a  situation!  I  would  have  given 
all  the  pittance  I  was  worth  to  have  been  in  the  deepest  dell  of 
the  forest.  I  felt  the  necessity  of  saying  something  in  excuse 
of  my  former  rudeness,  but  I  could  not  conjure  up  an  idea, 
nor  utter  a  word.  Every  moment  matters  were  growing 
worse.  I  felt  at  one  time  tempted  to  do  as  I  had  done  when 
I  robbed  her  of  the  kiss:  bolt  from  the  room,  and  take  to 
flight;  but  I  was  chamed  to  the  spot,  for  I  really  longed  to 
gain  her  good- will. 

"At  length  I  plucked  up  courage,  on  seeing  that  she  was 
equally  confused  with  myself,  and  walking  desperately  up  to 
her,  I  exclaimed : 

"  'I  have  been  trying  to  muster  up  something  to  say  to  you, 
but  I  cannot.  I  feel  that  I  am  in  a  horrible  scrape.  Do  have 
pity  on  me,  and  help  me  out  of  it.' 

"A  smile  dimpled  about  her  mouth,  and  played  among  the 
blushes  of  her  cheek.  She  looked  up  with  a  shy,  but  arch 
glance  of  the  eye,  that  expressed  a  volume  of  comic  recollec- 
tion; we  both  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  from  that  moment  all 
went  on  well. 

"  A  few  evenings  afterward  I  met  her  at  a  dance,  and  pro- 
secuted the  acquaintance.  I  soon  became  deeply  attached  to 
her ;  paid  my  court  regularly ;  and  before  I  was  nineteen  years 
of  age,  had  engaged  myself  to  marry  her.  I  spoke  to  her 
mother,  a  widow  lady,  to  ask  her  consent.  She  seemed  to 
demur;  upon  which,  with  my  customary  haste,  I  told  her 
there  would  be  no  use  in  opposing  the  match,  for  if  her  daugh- 
ter chose  to  have  me,  I  would  take  her,  in  defiance  of  her 
family,  and  the  whole  world. 

"She  laughed,  and  told  me  I  need  not  give  myself  any  un- 
easiness; there  would  be  no  unreasonable  opposition.  She 
knew  my  family -and  all  about  me.   The  only  obstacle  was. 


140 


THE  CRA  YON  PAPERS. 


that  I  had  no  means  of  supporting  a  wife,  and  she  had  noth- 
ing to  give  with  her  daughter. 

"No  matter;  at  that  moment  everything  was  bright  before 
me.  I  was  in  one  of  my  sanguine  moods.  I  feared  nothing, 
doubted  nothing.  So  it  vv^as  agreed  that  I  should  prosecute  my 
studies,  obtain  a  hcense,  and  as  soon  as  I  should  be  fairly 
launched  in  business,  we  would  be  married. 

"I  now  prosecuted  my  studies  with  redoubled  ardor,  and 
was  up  to  my  ears  in  law,  when  I  received  a  letter  from  my 
father,  who  had  heard  of  me  and  my  whereabouts.  He  ap- 
plauded the  course  I  had  taken,  but  advised  me  to  lay  a  foun- 
dation of  general  knowledge,  and  offered  to  defray  my  expenses, 
if  I  would  go  to  college.  I  felt  the  want  of  a  general  education, 
and  was  staggered  with  this  offer.  It  militated  somewhat 
against  the  self-dependent  course  I  had  so  proudly,  or  rather 
conceitedly,  marked  out  for  myself,  but  it  would  enable  me  to 
enter  more  advantageously  upon  my  legal  career.  I  talked 
over  the  matter  with  the  lovely  girl  to  whom  I  was  engaged. 
She  sided  in  opinion  with  my  father,  and  talked  so  disinter- 
estedly, yet  tenderly,  that  if  possible,  I  loved  her  more  than 
ever.  I  reluctantly,  therefore,  agreed  to  go  to  college  for  a 
couple  of  years,  though  it  must  necessarily  postpone  our 
union. 

"Scarcely  had  I  formed  this  resolution,  when  her  mother 
was  taken  ill^  and  died,  leaving  her  without  a  protector.  This 
again  altered  all  my  plans.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  protect  her.  I 
gave  up  all  idea  of  collegiate  studies;  persuaded  myself  that 
by  dint  of  industry  and  application  I  might  overcome  the 
deficiencies  of  education,  and  resolved  to  take  out  a  hcense  as 
soon  as  possible. 

"That  very  autumn  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  within  a 
month  afterward  was  married.  We  were  a  young  couple,  she 
not  much  above  sixteen,  I  not  quite  twenty ;  and  both  almost 
without  a  dollar  in  the  world.  The  establishment  which  we 
'  set  up  was  suited  to  our  circumstances :  a  log-house,  with  two 
small  rooms ;  a  bed,  a  table,  a  half  dozen  chairs,  a  half  dozen 
knives  and  forks,  a  half  dozen  spoons;  everything  by  half 
dozens;  a  little  delft  ware;  everything  in  a  small  way:  we 
were  so  poor,  but  then  so  happy ! 

"We  had  not  been  married  many  days,  when  court  was  held 
at  a  county  town,  about  twenty-five  miles  distant.  It  was 
accessary  for  me  to  go  there,  and  put  myself  in  the  way  of 
business ;  but  how  was  I  to  go  ?   I  had  expended  all  my  means 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  141 


on  our  establishment ;  and  then  it  was  hard  parting  with  my 
wife  so  soon  after  marriage.  However,  go  I  must.  Money 
must  be  made,  or  we  should  soon  have  the  wolf  at  the  door. 
I  accordingly  borrowed  a  horse,  and  borrowed  a  little  cash, 
and  rode  off  from  my  door,  leaving  my  wife  standing  at  it, 
and  waving  her  hand  after  me.  Her  last  look,  so  sweet  and 
beaming,  went  to  my  heart.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  go  through 
lire  and  water  for  her. 

"I  arrived  at  the  county  town  on  a  cool  October  evening. 
The  inn  was  crowded,  for  the  court  was  to  commence  on  the 
following  day.  I  knew  no  one,  and  wondered  how  I,  a  stranger, 
and  a  mere  youngster,  was  to  make  my  way  in  such  a  crowd, 
and  to  get  business.  The  pubhc  room  was  thronged  with  the 
idlers  of  the  country,  who  gather  together  on  such  occasions. 
There  was  some  drinking  going  forward,  with  much  noise,  and 
a  little  altercation.  Just  as  1  entered  the  room  I  saw  a  rough 
bully  of  a  felloAv,  who  was  partly  intoxicated,  strike  an  old 
man.  He  came  swaggering  by  me,  and  elbowed  me  as  he 
passed.  I  immediately  knocked  him  down,  and  kicked  him 
into  the  street.  I  needed  no  better  introduction.  In  a  mo- 
ment I  had  a  dozen  rough  shakes  of  the  hand,  and  invitations 
to  drink,  and  found  myself  quite  a  personage  in  this  rough 
assembly. 

''The  next  morning  the  court  opened.  I  took  my  seat 
among  the  lawyers,  but  felt  as  a  mere  spectator,  not  having 
a  suit  in  progress  or  prospect,  nor  having  any  idea  where  busi- 
ness was  to  come  from.  In  the  course  of  the  morning  a  man 
was  put  at  the  bar,  charged  with  passing  counterfeit  money, 
and  was  asked  if  he  was  ready  for  trial.  He  answered  in  the 
negative.  He  had  been  confined  in  a  place  where  there  were 
no  lawyers,  and  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  consulting  any. 
He  was  told  to  choose  counsel  from  the  lawyers  present,  and 
to  be  ready  for  trial  on  the  following  day.  He  looked  round 
the  court  and  selected  me.  I  was  thunder-struck.  I  could  not 
tell  why  he  should  make  such  a  choice.  I,  a  beardless  young- 
ster; unpractised  at  the  bar;  perfectly  unknown.  I  felt  diffi- 
dent yet  delighted,  and  could  have  hugged  the  rascal. 

"Before  leaving  the  court  he  gave  me  one  hundred  doUars 
in  a  bag  as  a  retaining  fee.  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  senses ; 
it  seemed  like  a  dream.  The  heaviness  of  the  fee  spoke  but 
Hghtly  in  favor  of  his  innocence,  but  that  was  no  affair  of 
mine.  I  was  to  be  advocate,  not  judge  nor  jury.  I  followed 
him  to  jail,  and  learned  from  him  all  the  particulars  of  his 


142 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


case ;  from  thence  I  went  to  the  clerk's  office  and  took  minutes 
of  the  indictment.  I  then  examined  the  law  on  the  subject, 
and  prepared  my  brief  in  my  room.  All  this  occupied  me 
until  midnight,  when  I  went  to  bed  and  tried  to  sleep.  It  was 
all  in  vain.  Never  in  my  life  was  I  more  wide-awake.  A  host 
of  thoughts  and  fancies  kept  rushing  through  my  mind ;  the 
shower  of  gold  that  had  so  expectedly  fallen  into  my  lap ;  the 
idea  of  my  poor  Httle  ^\ite  at  home,  that  I  was  to  astonish 
with  my  good  fortune !  But  then  the  awful  responsibility  I 
had  undertaken !— to  speak  for  the  first  time  in  a  strange 
court;  the  expectations  the  culprit  had  evidently  formed  of 
my  talents;  all  these,  and  a  crowd  of  similar  notions,  kept 
whirling  through  my  mind.  I  tossed  about  all  night,  fearing 
the  morning  would  find  me  exhausted  and  incompetent ;  in  a 
word,  the  day  dawned  on  me,  a  miserable  fellow ! 

"  I  got  up  feverish  and  nervous.  I  walked  out  before  break- 
fast, striving  to  collect  my  thoughts,  and  tranquilhze  my  feel- 
ings. It  was  a  bright  morning ;  the  air  was  pure  and  frosty. 
I  bathed  my  forehead  and  my  hands  m  a  beautiful  running 
stream ;  but  I  could  not  allay  the  fever  heat  that  raged  within. 
I  returned  to  breakfast,  but  could  not  eat.  A  single  cup  of 
coffee  formed  my  repast.  It  was  time  to  go  to  court,  and  I 
went  there  with  a  throbbing  heart.  I  believe  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  thoughts  of  my  little  wife,  in  her  lonely  log  house,  I 
should  have  given  back  to  the  man  his  hundred  dollars,  and 
relinquished  the  cause.  I  took  my  seat,  looking,  I  am  con- 
vinced, more  like  a  culprit  than  the  rogue  I  was  to  defend. 

' '  When  the  time  came  for  me  to  speak,  my  heart  died  with- 
in me.  I  rose  embarrassed  and  dismayed,  and  stammered  in 
opening  my  cause.  I  went  on  from  bad  to  worse,  and  felt  as 
if  I  was  going  down  hill.  Just  then  the  public  prosecutor,  a 
man  of  talents,  but  somewhat  rough  in  his  practice,  made  a 
sarcastic  remark  on  something  I  had  said.  It  was  like  an 
electric  spark,  and  ran  tinghng  through  every  vein  in  my 
body.  In  an  instant  my  diffidence  was  gone.  My  whole  spirit 
was  in  arms.  I  answered  with  promptness  and  iDitterness,  for 
I  felt  the  cruelty  of  such  an  attack  upon  a  novice  in  my  situa- 
tion. The  pubhc  prosecutor  made  a  kind  of  apology;  this, 
from  a  man  of  his  redoubted  powers,  was  a  vast  concession. 
I  renewed  my  argument  with  a  fearless  glow ;  carried  the  case 
through  triumphantly,  and  the  man  was  acquitted. 

"This  was  the  making  of  me  Everybody  was  curious  to 
know  who  this  new  lawyer  was,  that  had  thus  suddenly  risen 


EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RING  WOOD.  I43 


among  them,  and  bearded  the  attorney-general  at  the  very 
outset.  The  story  of  my  debut  at  the  inn  on  the  preceding 
evening,  when  I  had  knocked  down  a  bully,  and  kicked  him 
out  of  doors  for  striking  an  old  man,  was  circulated  with 
favorable  exaggerations.  Even  my  very  beardless  chin  and 
juvenile  countenance  were  in  my  favor,  for  people  gave  me 
far  more  credit  than  I  really  deserved.  The  chance  business 
which  occurs  in  our  country  courts  came  thronging  upon  m6. 
I  was  repeatedly  employed  in  other  causes ;  and  by  Saturday 
night,  when  the  court  closed,  and  I  had  paid  my  bill  at  the 
inn,  I  found  myself  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  silver, 
three  hundred  dollars  in  notes,  and  a  horse  that  I  afterward 
sold  for  two  hundred  dollars  more. 

"Never  did  miser  gloat  on  his  money  with  more  delight.  I 
locked  the  door  of  my  room ;  piled  the  money  in  a  heap  upon 
the  table ;  walked  round  it ;  sat  with  my  elbows  on  the  table, 
and  my  chin  upon  my  hands,  and  gazed  upon  it.  Was  I 
thinking  of  the  money?  No!  I  was  thinking  of  my  little 
wife  at  home.  Another  sleepless  night  ensued;  but  what  a 
night  of  golden  fancies,  and  splendid  air-castles !  As  soon  as 
morning  dawned,  I  was  up,  mounted  the  borrowed  horse  with 
which  I  had  come  to  court,  and  led  the  other  which  I  had  re- 
ceived as  a  fee.  All  the  way  I  was  delighting  myself  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  surprise  I  had  in  store  for  my  little  wife,  for 
both  of  us  had  expected  nothing  but  that  I  should  spend  all 
the  money  I  had  borrowed,  and  should  return  in  debt. 

"  Oar  meeting  was  joyous,  as  you  may  suppose:  but  I  played 
the  part  of  the  Indian  hunter,  who,  when  he  returns  from  the 
chase,  never  for  a  time  speaks  of  his  success.  She  had  pre- 
pared a  snug  little  rustic  meal  for  me,  and  while  it  was  getting 
ready  I  seated  myself  at  an  old-fashioned  desk  in  one  corner, 
and  began  to  count  over  my  money,  and  put  it  away.  She 
came  to  me  before  I  had  finished,  and  asked  who  I  had  col- 
lected the  money  for. 

"'For  myself,  to  be  sure,' replied  I,  with  affected  coolness; 
'  I  made  it  at  court.' 

"  She  looked  me  for  a  moment  in  the  face,  incredulously.  I 
tried  to  keep  my  countenance,  and  to  play  Indian,  but  it  would 
not  do.  My  muscles  began  to  twitch ;  my  feelings  all  at  once 
gave  way.  I  caught  her  in  my  arms;  laughed,  cried,  and 
danced  about  the  room,  like  a  crazy  man.  From  that  time 
forward,  we  never  wanted  for  money. 

"  I  had  not  been  long  in  successful  practice,  when  I  was  sur- 


lU 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


prised  one  day  by  a  visit  from  my  woodland  patron,  old  Miller. 
The  tidings  of  my  prosperity  had  reached  him  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  he  had  walked  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  on  foot 
to  see  me.  By  that  time  I  had  improved  my  domestic  estab- 
lishment, and  had  all  things  comfortable  about  me.  He  looked 
around  him  with  a  wondering  eye,  at  what  he  considered  luxu- 
ries and  superfluities ;  but  supposed  they  were  all  right  in  my 
Eiltered  circumstances.  He  said  he  did  not  know,  upon  the 
whole,  but  that  I  had  acted  for  the  best.  It  is  true,  if  game 
had  continued  plenty,  it  would  have  been  a  folly  for  me  to  quit 
a  hunter's  life ;  but  hunting  was  pretty  nigh  done  up  in  Ken- 
tucky. The  buffalo  had  gone  to  Missouri ;  the  elk  were  nearly 
gone  also ;  deer,  too,  were  growing  scarce ;  they  might  last  out 
his  time,  as  he  was  gi-owing  old,  but  they  were  not  worth  set- 
ting up  life  upon.  He  had  once  hved  on  the  borders  of  Vir- 
ginia. Game  grew  scarce  there ;  he  followed  it  up  across  Ken- 
tucky, and  now  it  was  again  giving  him  the  sUp ;  but  he  was 
too  old  to  follow  it  farther. 

"  He  remained  with  us  three  days.  My  wife  did  everything 
in  her  power  to  make  him  comfortable ;  but  at  the  end  of  that 
time  he  said  he  must  be  off  again  to  the  woods.  He  was  tilled 
of  the  village,  and  of  having  so  many  people  about  him.  He 
accordingly  returned  to  the  's\i]derness  and  to  hunting  life. 
But  I  fear  he  did  not  make  a  good  end  of  it ;  for  I  understand 
that  a  few  years  before  his  death  he  married  Sukey  Thomas, 
who  lived  at  the  White  Oak  Eim." 


THE  SEMINOLES. 

From  the  time  of  the  chimerical  cruisings  of  Old  Ponce  de 
Leon  in  search  of  the  Fountain  of  Youth,  the  avaricious  expe- 
dition of  Pamphilo  de  Narvaez  in  quest  of  gold,  and  the  chival- 
rous enterprise  of  Hernando  de  Soto,  to  discover  and  conquer 
a  second  Mexico,  the  natives  of  Florida  have  been  continually 
subjected  to  the  invasions  and  encroachments  of  white  men. 
They  have  resisted  them  perseveringly  but  fruitlessly,  and  are 
now  battling  a.mid  swamps  and  morasses  for  the  last  foothold 
of  their  native  soil,  with  all  the  ferocity  of  despair.  Can  we 
wonder  at  the  bitterness  of  a  hostility  that  has  been  handed 
down  from  father  to  son.  for  upward  of  three  centuries,  and 


THE  SEMINOLES. 


145 


exasperated  by  the  wrongs  and  miseries  of  each  succeeding 
generation !  The  very  name  of  the  savages  with  whom  we  are 
fighting  betokens  their  fallen  and  homeless  condition.  Formed 
of  the  wrecks  of  once  powerful  tribes,  and  driven  from  their 
ancient  seats  of  prosperity  and  dominion,  they  are  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Seminoles,  or  "Wanderers." 

Cartram,  who  travelled  through  Florida  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  last  century,  speaks  of  passing  through  a  great  extent  of 
ancient  Indian  fields,  now  silent  and  deserted,  overgi'own  with 
forests,  orange  groves,  and  rank  vegetation,  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Alachua,  the  capital  of  a  famous  and  powerful  tribe, 
who  in  days  of  old  could  assemble  thousands  at  bull-play  and 
other  athletic  exercises  "over  these  then  happy  fields  and 
green  plains."  "Almost  every  step  we  take,"  adds  he,  "  over 
these  fertile  heights,  discovers  the  remains  and  traces  of 
ancient  human  habitations  and  cultivation. " 

About  the  year  1763,  when  Florida  was  ceded  by  the  Span- 
iards to  the  Enghsh,  we  are  told  that  the  Indians  generally 
retired  from  the  towns  and  the  neighborhood  of  the  whites, 
and  burying  themselves  in  the  deep  forests,  intricate  swamps 
and  horn  mocks,  and  vast  savannas  of  the  interior,  devoted 
themselves  to  a  pastoral  life,  and  the  rearing  of  horses  and 
cattle.  These  are  the  people  that  received  the  name  of  the 
Seminoles,  or  Wanderers,  which  they  still  retain. 

Bartram  gives  a  pleasing  picture  of  them  at  the  time  he  vis- 
ited them  in  their  wilderness ;  where  their  distance  from  the 
abodes  of  the  white  man  gave  them  a  transient  quiet  and 
security.  "  This  handful  of  people,"  says  he,  "  possesses  a  vast 
territory,  all  East  and  the  greatest  part  of  West  Florida, 
which  being  naturally  cut  and  divided  into  thousands  of 
islets,  knolls,  and  eminences,  by  the  innumerable  rivers,  lakes, 
swamps,  vast  savannas,  and  ponds,  form  so  many  secure  re- 
treats and  temporary  dwelling  places  that  efl'ectually  guard 
them  from  any  sudden  invasions  or  attacks  from  their  ene- 
mies; and  being  thus  a  swampy,  hommocky  country,  fur- 
nishes such  a  plenty  and  variety  of  supplies  for  the  nourish- 
ment of  varieties  of  animals,  that  I  can  venture  to  assert  that 
no  part  of  the  globe  so  abounds  with  wild  game,  or  creatures 
fit  for  the  food  of  man. 

"  Thus  they  enjoy  a  superabundance  of  the  necessaries  and 
conveniences  of  life,  with  the  security  of  person  and  property, 
the  two  great  concerns  of  mankind.  The  hides  of  deer,  bears, 
tigers,  and  wolves,  together  vfith  honey,  wax,  and  other  pi*o- 


146 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


diictions  of  the  country,  purchase  their  clothing  equipage  and 
domestic  utensils  from  the  whites.  They  seem  to  be  free  from 
want  or  desires.  No  cruel  enemy  to  dread ;  nothing  to  give 
them  disquietude,  hut  the  gradual  encroachments  of  the  ichite 
people.  Thus  contented  and  undisturbed,  they  appear  as  blithe 
and  free  as  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  like  them  as  volatile  and 
active,  tuneful  and  vociferous.  The  visage,  action,  and  deport- 
ment of  the  Seminoles  form  the  most  striking  picture  of  hap- 
piness in  this  life;  joy,  contentment,  love,  and  friendship, 
without  guile  or  affectation,  seem  inherent  in  them,  or  pre- 
dominant in  their  vital  principle,  for  it  leaves  them  with  but 

the  last  breath  of  life  They  are  fond  of  games  and 

gambling,  and  amuse  themselves  like  children,  in  relating 
extravagant  stories,  to  cause  surprise  and  mirth."  * 

The  same  writer  gives  an  engagiug  picture  of  his  treatment 
by  these  savages : 

"  Soon  after  entering  the  forests,  we  were  met  in  the  path 
by  a  small  company  of  Indians,  smding  and  beckoning  to  us 
long  before  we  joined  them.  This  was  a  family  of  Talaha- 
sochte,  who  had  been  out  on  a  hunt  and  were  returning  home 
loaded  with  barbecued  meat,  hides,  and  honey.  Their  company 
consisted  of  the  man,  his  wife  and  children,  well  mounted  on 
fine  horses,  with  a  number  of  pack-horses.  The  man  offered 
us  a  fawn  skin  of  honey,  which  I  accepted,  and  at  parting 
presented  him  with  some  fish-hooks,  sewing-needles,  etc. 

On  our  return  to  camp  in  the  evening,  we  were  saluted  by 
a  party  of  young  Indian  warriors,  who  had  pitched  their  tents 
on  a  green  eminence  near  the  lake,  at  a  smaU  distance  from  our 
camp,  under  a  httle  grove  of  oaks  and  palms.  Tliis  company 
consisted  of  seven  yomig  Seminoles,  under  the  conduct  of  a 
young  prince  or  chief  of  Talahasochte,  a  town  southward  in  the 
isthmus.  They  were  aU  dressed  and  painted  with  singular 
elegance,  and  richly  ornamented  with  silver  plates,  chains, 
etc.,  after  the  Seminole  mode,  with  waving  plumes  of  feathers 
on  their  crests.  On  our  coming  up  to  them,  they  arose  and 
shook  hands ;  we  alighted  and  sat  awhile  with  them  by  their 
cheerful  fire. 

"  The  young  prince  informed  our  chief  that  he  was  in  pur- 
suit of  a  young  fellow  who  had  fled  from  the  town  carrying 
off  with  him  one  of  his  favorite  young  wives.  He  said,  mer- 
rily, he  would  have  the  ears  of  both  of  them  before  he  returned. 


*  Bartram's  Travels  in  North  America, 


THE  SEMINOLES. 


147 


He  was  rather  above  the  middle  stature,  and  the  most  perfect 
human  figure  I  ever  saw;  of  an  amiable,  engaging  counte- 
nance, air,  and  deportment ;  free  and  familiar  in  conversation, 
yet  retaining  a  becoming  gracefulness  and  dignity.  We  arose, 
took  leave  of  them,  and  crossed  a  little  vale,  covered  with  a 
charming  gi-een  turf,  already  illuminated  by  the  soft  light  of 
the  full  moon. 

*'Soon  after  joining  our  companions  at  camp,  our  neigh- 
bors, the  prince  and  his  associates,  paid  us  a  visit.  We  treated 
them  with  the  best  fare  we  had,  having  till  this  time  preserved 
our  spirituous  hquors.  They  left  us  with  perfect  cordiality 
and  cheerfulness,  wishing  us  a  good  repose,  and  retired  to 
their  own  camp.  Having  a  band  of  music  with  them,  con- 
sisting of  a  drum,  flutes,  and  a  rattle-gourd,  they  entertained 
us  during  the  night  with  their  music,  vocal  and  instrumental. 

There  is  a  languishing  softness  and  melancholy  air  in  the 
Indian  convivial  songs,  especially  of  the  amorous  class,  irre- 
sistibly moving  attention,  and  exquisitely  pleasing,  especially 
in  their  solitary  recesses,  when  all  nature  is  silent." 

Travellers  who  have  been  among  them,  in  more  recent 
times,  before  they  had  embarked  in  their  present  desperate 
struggle,  represent  them  in  much  the  same  light;  as  leading 
a  pleasant,  indolent  hfe,  in  a  climate  that  required  little 
shelter  or  clotliing,  and  where  the  spontaneous  fruits  of  the 
earth  furnished  subsistence  without  toil.  A  cleanly  race,  de- 
lighting in  bathing,  passing  much  of  their  time  under  the 
shade  of  their  trees,  Avith  heaps  of  oranges  and  other  fine 
fruits  for  their  refreshment;  talking,  laughing,  dancing  and 
sleeping.  Every  chief  had  a  fan  hanging  to  his  side,  made 
of  feathers  of  the  wild  turkey,  the  beautiful  pink-colored 
crane  or  the  scarlet  flamingo.  With  this  he  would  sit  and  fan 
himself  with  great  stateliness,  while  the  yoimg  people  danced 
before  him.  The  women  joined  in  the  dances  with  the  men, 
excepting  the  war-dances.  They  wore  strings  of  tortoise-shells 
and  pebbles  round  their  legs,  which  rattled  in  cadence  to  the 
music.  They  were  treated  with  more  attention  among  the 
Seminoles  than  among  most  Indian  tribes. 

ORIGIN  OF  THE  WHITE,  THE  RED,  AND  THE  BLACK  MEN. 

A  SEMINOLE  TRADITION. 

When  the  Florid  as  were  erected  into  a  territory  of  the 
United  States,  one  of  the  earhest  cares  of  the  Governor, 


148 


TH&  CRAYON  PAPERS, 


William  P.  Duval,  was  directed  to  the  instruction  and  civiliza- 
tion of  the  natives.  For  this  purpose  he  called  a  meeting 
of  the  chiefs,  in  wHicli  he  informed  them  of  the  wish  of  their 
Great  Father  at  Washington  that  they  should  have  schools 
and  teachers  among  them,  and  that  their  children  should  be 
instmcted  like  the  children  of  white  men.  The  cliiefs  listened 
with  their  customary  silence  and  decorum  to  a  long  speech, 
settuig  forth  the  advantages  that  would  accrue  to  them  from 
this  measure,  and  when  he  had  concluded,  begged  the  interval 
of  a  day  to  dehberate  on  it. 

On  the  following  day  a  solemn  convocation  was  held,  at 
which  one  of  the  chiefs  addressed  the  governor  in  the  name  of 
all  the  rest.  "My  brother,"  said  he,  "  we  have  been  thinking 
over  the  proposition  of  our  Great  Father  at  Washington,  to 
send  teachers  and  set  up  schools  among  us.  We  are  very 
thankful  for  the  interest  he  takes  in  our  weKare;  but  after 
much  dehberation,  have  concluded  to  decline  his  offer.  What 
will  do  very  well  for  white  men,  will  not  do  for  red  men. 
I  knoAv  you  white  men  say  we  all  come  from  the  same  father 
and  mother,  but  you  are  mistaken.  We  have  a  tradition 
handed  down  from  our  forefathers,  and  we  believe  it,  that  the 
Great  Spirit  when  he  undertook  to  make  men,  made  the  black 
man ;  it  was  his  first  attempt,  and  pretty  well  for  a  beginning ; 
but  he  soon  saw  he  had  bungled ;  so  he  determined  to  try  his 
hand  again.  He  did  so,  and  made  the  red  man.  He  hked  him 
much  better  than  the  black  man,  but  still  he  was  not  exactly 
what  he  wanted.  So  he  tried  once  more,  and  made  the  wliite 
man ;  and  then  he  was  satisfied.  You  see,  therefore,  that  you 
were  made  last,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  call  you  my  youngest 
brother. 

"When  the  Great  Spirit  had  made  the  three  men,  he 
called  them  together  and  showed  them  three  boxes.  The  first 
was  filled  with  books,  and  maps,  and  papers;  the  second  with 
bows  and  arrows,  knives  and  tomahawks;  the  third  with  . 
spades,  axes,  hoes,  and  hammers.  '  These,  my  sons, '  said  he,  ' 
'  are  the  means  by  wliich  you  are  to  live :  choose  among  them 
according  to  your  fancy.' 

"The  white  man,  being  the  favorite,  had  the  first  choice. 
He  passed  by  the  box  of  working-tools  without  notice;  but 
when  he  came  to  the  weapons  for  war  and  hunting,  he  stopped 
and  looked  hard  at  them.  The  red  man  trembled,  for  he  had 
set  his  heart  upon  that  box.  The  wliite  man,  however,  after 
looking  upon  it  for  a  moment,  passed  on,  and  chose  the  box 


TUE  SEMINOLES. 


149 


of  books  and  papers.  The  red  man's  turn  came  next;  and 
yon  may  be  sure  he  seized  with  joy  upon  the  bows  and  ar- 
rows and  tomahawks.  As  to  the  black  man,  he  had  no  choice 
left  but  to  put  up  with  the  box  of  tools. 

' '  From  this  it  is  clear  that  the  Great  Spirit  intended  the 
white  man  should  learn  to  read  and  write ;  to  understand  all 
about  the  moon  and  stars;  and  to  make  everything,  even 
rum  and  whiskey.  That  the  red  man  should  be  a  first-rate 
hunter,  and  a  mighty  warrior,  but  he  was  not  to  learn  any- 
thing from  books,  as  the  Great  Spirit  had  not  given  him 
any :  nor  was  he  to  make  rum  and  whiskey,  lest  he  should 
kill  himself  with  drinking.  As  to  the  black  man,  as  he  had 
nothing  but  working-tools,  it  was  clear  he  was  to  work  for 
the  white  and  red  man,  Avhich  he  has  continued  to  do. 

"We  must  go  according  to  the  wishes  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
or  we  shall  get  into  trouble.  To  know  how  to  read  and  write 
is  very  good  for  white  men,  but  very  bad  for  red  men.  It 
makes  wliite  men  better,  but  red  men  worse.  Some  of  the 
Creeks  and  Cherokees  learned  to  read  and  write,  and  they 
are  the  greatest  rascals  among  all  the  Indians.  They  went 
on  to  Washington,  and  said  they  were  going  to  see  their  Great 
Father,  to  talk  about  the  good  of  the  nation.  And  when 
they  got  there,  they  all  wrote  upon  a  little  piece  of  paper, 
without  the  nation  at  home  knowing  anything  about  it.  And 
the  first  thing  the  nation  at  home  knew  of  the  matter,  they 
were  called  together  by  the  Indian  agent,  who  showed  them  a 
little  piece  of  paper,  which  he  told  them  was  a  treaty,  which 
their  brethren  had  made  in  their  name,  with  their  Great  Father 
at  Washington.  And  as  they  knew  not  what  a  treaty  was,  he 
held  up  the  little  piece  of  paper,  and  they  looked  under  it,  and 
lo !  it  covered  a  great  extent  of  country,  and  they  found  that 
their  brethren,  by  knowing  how  to  read  and  write,  had  sold 
their  houses  and  their  lands  and  the  graves  of  their  fathers ; 
and  that  the  white  man,  by  knowing  how  to  read  and  write, 
had  gained  them.  Tell  our  Great  Father  at  Washing-ton, 
therefore,  that  we  are  very  sorry  we  cannot  receive  teachers 
among  us ;  for  reading  and  writing,  though  very  good  for 
white  men,  is  very  bad  for  the  Indians." 


160 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  NEAMATHLA. 

AN  AUTHENTIC  SKETCH. 

In  the  autumn  of  1823,  Governor  Duval,  and  other  comniis> 
sioners  on  the  part  of  the  United  States,  concluded  a  treaty 
with  the  chiefs  and  warriors  of  the  Florida  Indians,  by  which 
the  latter,  for  certain  considerations,  ceded  aU  claims  to  the 
whole  territory,  excepting  a  district  in  the  eastern  part,  to 
which  they  were  to  remove,  and  within  which  they  were  to 
eside  for  twenty  years.  Several  of  the  chiefs  signed  the 
treaty  with  great  reluctance;  but  none  opposed  it  more 
strongly  than  Neamathla,  principal  chief  of  the  Mickasookies, 
a  fierce  and  warhke  people,  many  of  them  Creeks  by  origin, 
who  lived  about  the  ^lickasookie  lake.  Neamathla  had  always 
been  active  in  those  depredations  on  the  frontiers  of  Georgia, 
which  had  brought  vengeance  and  ruin  on  the  Seminoles.  He 
was  a  remarkable  man ;  upward  of  sixty  years  of  age,  about 
six  feet  high,  with  a  fine  eye,  and  a  strongly  marked  counte- 
nance, over  which  he  possessed  great  command.  His  hatred 
of  the  white  men  appeared  to  be  mixed  with  contempt :  on  the 
common  people  he  looked  down  with  infinite  scorn.  He 
seemed  unwilling  to  acknowledge  any  superiority  of  rank  or 
dignity  in  Governor  Duval,  claiming  to  associate  with  him  on 
terms  of  equality,  as  two  great  chieftains.  Though  he  had 
been  prevailed  upon  to  sign  the  treaty,  his  heart  revolted  at  it. 
In  one  of  his  frank  conversations  with  Governor  Duval,  he 
observed:  "  This  country  belongs  to  the  red  man;  and  if  I  had 
the  number  of  warriors  at  my  command  that  this  nation  once 
had,  I  would  not  leave  a  white  man  on  my  lands.  I  would 
exterminate  the  whole.  I  can  say  this  to  you,  for  you  can 
understand  me ;  you  are  a  man ;  but  I  would  not  say  it  to  your 
people.  They'd  cry  out  I  was  a  savage,  and  would  take  my 
life.  They  cannot  appreciate  the  feelings  of  a  man  that  loves 
his  country." 

As  Florida  had  but  recently  been  erected  into  a  territory, 
everything  as  yet  was  in  rude  and  simple  style.  The  gover- 
nor, to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  Indians,  and  to  be 
near  at  hand  to  keep  an  eye  upon  them,  fixed  his  residence  at 
Tallahassee,  near  the  Fowel  towns,  inhabited  by  the  Micka- 
sookies.   His  government  palace  for  a  time  was  a  mere  log 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  NEAMATIILA. 


151 


house,  and  he  lived  on  hunters'  fare.  The  village  of  Neamath- 
la  was  but  about  three  miles  off,  and  thither  the  governor  oc- 
casionally rode,  to  visit  the  old  chieftain.  In  one  of  these  visits 
he  found  Neamathla  seated  in  his  wigwam,  in  the  centre  of 
the  village,  surrounded  by  his  warriors.  The  governor  had 
brought  him  some  liquor  as  a  present,  but  it  mounted  quickly 
into  his  brain,  and  rendered  hira  quite  boastful  and  belligerent. 
The  theme  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind,  was  the  treaty  with 
the  whites.  * '  It  was  true, "  he  said,  ' '  the  red  ,men  had  made 
such  a  treaty,  but  the  white  men  had  not  acted  uj)  to  it.  The 
red  men  had  received  none  of  the  money  and  the  cattle  that 
had  been  promised  them :  the  treaty,  therefore,  was  at  an  end, 
and  they  did  not  intend  to  be  bound  by  it." 

Governor  Duval  calmly  represented  to  him  that  the  time 
appointed  in  the  treaty  for  the  payment  and  delivery  of  the 
money  and  the  cattle  had  not  yet  arrived.  This  the  old  chief- 
tain knew  full  well,  but  he  chose,  for  the  moment,  to  pretend 
ignorance.  He  kept  on  drinking  and  talking,  his  voice  grow- 
ing louder  and  louder,  until  it  resounded  all  over  the  village. 
He  held  in  his  hand  a  long  knife,  with  which  he  had  been 
rasping  tobacco;  this  he  kept  flourishing  backward  and  for- 
ward, as  he  talked,  by  way  of  giving  effect  to  his  words, 
brandishing  it  at  times  within  an  inch  of  the  governor's  throat. 
He  concluded  his  tirade  by  repeating,  that  the  country  be- 
'  longed  to  the  red  men,  and  that  sooner  than  give  it  up,  his 
bones  and  the  bones  of  his  people  should  bleach  upon  its  soil. 

Duval  saw  that  the  object  of  all  this  bluster  was  to  see 
whether  he  could  be  intimidated.  He  kept  his  eye,  therefore, 
fixed  steadily  on  the  chief,  and  the  moment  he  concluded  with 
his  menace,  seized  him  by  the  bosom  of  his  hunting-shirt,  and 
clinching  his  other  fist : 

''I've  heard  what  you  have  said,"  replied  he.  "You  have 
made  a  treaty,  yet  you  say  your  bones  shall  bleach  before 
you  comply  with  it.  As  sure  as  there  is  a  sun  in  heaven,  your 
bones  shall  bleach,  if  you  do  not  fulfil  every  article  of  that 
treaty !  I'U  let  you  know  that  I  am  first  here,  and  will  see  that 
you  do  your  duty !" 

Upon  this,  the  old  chieftain  threw  himself  back,  burst  into  a 
fit  of  laughing,  and  declared  that  all  he  had  said  was  in  joke. 
The  governor  suspected,  however,  that  there  was  a  grave 
meaning  at  the  bottom  of  this  jocularity. 

For  two  months,  everything  went  on  smoothly :  the  Indians 
repaired  daily  to  the  log-cabin  palace  of  the  governor,  at  Talla- 


152 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS, 


hassee,  and  appeared  perfectly  contented.  All  at  once  they 
ceased  their  visits,  and  for  three  or  four  days  not  one  was  to 
be  seen.  Governor  Duval  began  to  apprehend  that  some  mis- 
chief was  brewing.  On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  a  chief 
named  Yellow-Hair,  a  resolute,  intelligent  fellow,  who  had 
always  evinced  an  attachment  for  the  governor,  entered  his 
cabin  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  and  informed  him  that 
between  four  and  five  hundred  warriors,  painted  and  deco- 
rated, were  assembled  to  hold  a  secret  vv^ar-talk  at  Neamathla's 
town.  He  had  slipped  off  to  give  mtelligence,  at  the  risk  of  his 
life,  and  hastened  back  lest  liis  absence  should  be  discovered. 

Governor  Duval  passed  an  anxious  night  after  this  intelli- 
gence. He  knew  the  talent  and  the  daring  character  of  Nea- 
mathla;  he  recollected  the  threats  he  had  thrown  out;  he 
reflected  that  about  eighty  v/hite  families  were  scattered  wide- 
ly apart,  over  a  great  extent  of  country,  and  might  be  swept 
away  at  once,  should  the  Indians,  as  he  feared,  determine  to 
clear  the  country.  That  he  did  not  exaggerate  the  dangers  of 
the  case,  has  been  proved  by  the  horrid  scenes  of  Indian  war- 
fare that  have  since  desolated  that  devoted  region.  After  a 
night  of  sleepless  cogitation,  Duval  determined  on  a  measure 
suited  to  his  prompt  and  resolute  character.  Knowing  the 
admiration  of  the  savages  for  personal  courage,  he  determined, 
by  a  sudden  surprise,  to  endeavor  to  overawe  and  check  them. 
It  was  hazarding  much ;  but  where  so  many  lives  were  in  jeop- 
ardy, he  felt  bound  to  incur  the  hazard. 

Accordingly,  on  the  next  morning,  he  set  otf  on  horseback, 
attended  merely  by  a  white  man,  who  had  been  reared  among 
the  Seminoles,  and  understood  their  language  and  manners, 
and  who  acted  as  interpreter.  They  struck  into  an  Indian 
' '  trail, "  leading  to  Neamathla's  village.  After  proceeding 
about  half  a  mile,  Governor  Duval  informed  the  interpreter 
of  the  object  of  his  expedition.  The  latter,  though  a  bold  man, 
paused  and  remonstrated.  The  Indians  among  whom  they 
were  going  were  among  the  most  desperate  and  discontented 
of  the  nation.  Many  of  them  were  veteran  warriors,  impover- 
ished and  exasperated  by  defeat,  and  ready  to  set  their  Lives  at 
any  hazard.  He  said  that  if  they  were  holding  a  war  council, 
it  must  be  with  desperate  intent,  and  it  would  be  certain  death 
to  intrude  among  them. 

Duval  made  light  of  his  apprehensions:  he  said  he  was 
perfectly  well  acquainted  with  the  Indian  character,  and 
should  certainly  proceed.    So  saying,  he  rode  on.  When 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  WEAMATIILA. 


153 


■within  half  a  mile  of  the  village,  the  interpreter  addressed  him 
0;gain,  in  such  a  tremulous  tone  that  Duval  turned  and  looked 
him  in  the  face.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  once  more  urged  the 
governor  to  return,  as  they  would  certauily  be  massacred  if 
they  proceeded. 

Duval  repeated  his  determination  to  go  on,  but  advised  the 
otlier  to  return,  lest  his  pale  face  should  betray  fear  to  the 
Indians,  and  they  might  take  advantage  of  it.  The  interpreter 
replied  that  he  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  have 
it  said  he  had  deserted  his  leader  when  in  peril. 

Duval  then  told  him  he  most  translate  faithfully  all  ho 
should  say  to  the  Indians,  without  softening  a  Avord.  The 
interpreter  promised  faithf uUy  to  do  so,  adding  that  he  well 
knew,  when  they  were  once  in  the  town,  notliing  but  boldness 
could  save  them. 

They  now  rode  into  the  village,  and  advanced  to  the  council- 
house.  This  was  rather  a  group  of  four  houses,  forming  a 
square,  in  the  centre  of  wliich  was  a  great  council-fire.  The 
houses  were  open  in  front,  toward  the  fire,  and  closed  in  the 
rear.  At  each  corner  of  the  square  there  was  an  interval 
between  the  houses,  for  ingress  and  egress.  In  these  houses 
sat  the  old  men  and  the  chiefs ;  the  young  men  were  gathered 
round  the  fire.  Neamathla  presided  at  the  council,  elevated  on 
a  higher  seat  than  the  rest. 

Governor  Duval  entered  by  one  of  the  comer  intervals,  and 
rode  boldly  into  the  centre  of  the  square.  The  young  men 
made  way  for  him ;  an  old  man  who  was  speaking,  paused  in 
the  midst  of  liis  harangue.  In  an  instant  thirty  or  forty  rifles 
were  cocked  and  levelled.  Never  had  Duval  heard  so  loud  a 
click  of  triggers :  it  seemed  to  strike  to  Ms  heart.  He  gave  one 
glance  at  the  Indians,  and  turned  off  with  an  air  of  contempt. 
He  did  not  dare,  he  says,  to  look  again,  lest  it  might  affect 
his  nerves;  and  on  the  firmness  of  his  nerves  everything 
depended. 

The  chief  threw  up  his  arm.  The  rifles  were  lowered.  Duval 
breathed  more  freely :  he  felt  disposed  to  leap  from  his  horse, 
but  restrained  himself,  and  dismounted  leisurely.  He  then 
walls:ed  deliberately  up  to  Neamathla,  and  demanded,  in  an 
authoritative  tone,  what  were  his  motives  for  holding  that 
council.  The  moment  he  made  this  demand,  the  orator  sat 
down.  The  chief  made  no  reply,  but  hung  his  head  in  appar- 
ent confusion.    After  a  moment's  pause,  Duval  proceeded : 

*'I  am  well  aware  of  the  meaning  of  this  wai'-council ;  and 


154 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


deem  it  my  duty  to  warn  you  against  prosecuting  tke  schemes 
you  have  been  devising.  If  a  single  hair  of  a  white  man  in 
this  country  falls  to  the  ground,  I  will  hang  you  and  your 
chiefs  on  the  trees  around  your  council-house !  You  cannot 
pretend  to  withstand  the  i^ower  of  the  white  men.  You  are  in 
the  palm  of  the  hand  of  your  Great  Father  at  Washington, 
who  can  crush  you  hke  an  egg-shell.  You  may  kill  me :  I  am 
but  one  man ;  but  recollect,  white  men  are  numerous  as  the 
leaves  on  the  trees.  Remember  the  fate  of  your  warriors 
whose  bones  are  whitening  in  battle-fields.  Remember  your 
wives  and  children  who  perished  in  swamps.  Do  you  want  to 
provoke  more  hostilities?  Another  war  with  the  white  men, 
and  there  will  not  be  a  Seminole  left  to  tell  the  story  of  his 
race." 

Seeing  the  effect  of  his  words,  he  concluded  by  appointing  a 
day  for  the  Indians  to  meet  him  at  St.  Marks,  and  give  an 
account  of  their  conduct.  He  then  rode  off,  mthout  giving 
them  thne  to  recover  from  their  surprise.  That  night  he  rode 
forty  miles  to  Apalachicola  River,  to  the  tribe  of  the  same 
name,  who  were  in  feud  with  the  Seminoles.  They  promptly 
put  two  hundred  and  fifty  warriors  at  his  disposal,  whom  he 
ordered  to  be  at  St.  Marks  at  the  appointed  day.  He  sent  out 
runners,  also,  and  mustered  one  hundred  of  the  mihtia  to  repair 
to  the  same  place,  together  wdth  a  number  of  regulars  from  the 
army.    All  his  arrangements  were  successful. 

Having  taken  these  measures,  he  returned  to  Tallahassee,  to 
the  neighborhood  of  the  conspirators,  to  show  them  that  he  was 
not  afraid.  Here  he  ascertained,  through  YeUow-Hair,  that 
nine  towns  were  disaffected,  and  had  been  concerned  in  the 
conspiracy.  He  was  careful  to  inform  himself,  from  the  same 
source,  of  the  names  of  the  warriors  in  each  of  those  towns  who 
were  most  popidar,  though  poor,  and  destitute  of  rank  and 
command. 

When  the  appointed  day  was  at  hand  for  the  meeting  at  St. 
Marks,  Governor  Duval  set  off  with  Neamathla,  who  was  at 
the  head  of  eight  or  nine  hundred  warriors,  but  who  feared  to 
venture  into  the  fort  without  him.  As  they  entered  the  fort, 
and  saw  troops  and  militia  drawn  up  there,  and  a  force  of  Apa- 
lachicola soldiers  stationed  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river, 
they  thought  they  were  betrayed,  and  were  about  to  fly ;  but 
Duval  assured  them  they  were  safe,  and  that  when  the  talk 
was  over,  they  might  go  home  unmolested. 

A  grand  talk  was  now  held,  in  which  the  late  conspiracy  was 


LETTER  FROM  GRANADA. 


155 


discussed.  As  he  had  foreseen,  Neamathla  and  the  other  old 
cliiefs  threw  all  the  blame  upon  the  young  men.  ' '  Well, " 
repHed  Duval,  "with  us  white  men,  when  we  find  a  man 
incompetent  to  govern  those  under  him,  we  put  him  down,  and 
appoint  another  in  his  place.  Now,  as  you  all  acknowledge 
you  cannot  manage  your  young  men,  we  must  put  chiefs  over 
tliem  who  can." 

So  saying,  he  deposed  Neamathla  first ;  appointing  another 
in  his  place ;  and  so  on  with  all  the  rest :  taking  care  to  sub- 
stitute the  warriors  who  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  as  poor 
and  popular ;  putting  medals  round  their  necks,  and  investing 
them  with  great  ceremony.  The  Indians  were  surprised  and 
delighted  at  finding  the  appointments  fall  upon  the  very  men 
they  would  themselves  have  chosen,  and  hailed  them  with 
acclamations.  The  warriors  thus  unexpectedly  elevated  to 
command,  and  clothed  with  dignity,  were  secured  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  governor,  and  sure  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  disaffected. 
As  to  the  great  chief  Neamathla,  he  left  the  country  in  disgust, 
and  returned  to  the  Creek  nation,  who  elected  him  a  chief  of 
one  of  their  towns.  Thus  by  the  resolute  spirit  and  prompt 
sagacity  of  one  man,  a  dangerous  conspiracy  was  completely 
defeated.  Governor  Duval  was  afterward  enabled  to  remove 
the  whole  nation,  through  his  own  personal  influence,  without 
the  aid  of  the  general  government. 


To  the  Editor  of  the  KnicJcerbocJcer, 

Sir:  The  following  letter  was  scribbled  to  a  friend  during 
my  sojourn  in  the  Alhambra,  in  1828.  As  it  presents  scenes 
and  impressions  noted  down  at  the  time,  I  venture  to  offer  it 
for  the  consideration  of  your  readers.  Should  it  prove  accep- 
table, I  may  from  time  to  time  give  other  letters,  written  in  the 
course  of  my  various  ramblings,  and  which  have  been  kindly 
restored  to  me  by  my  friends.    Yours,  G.  C. 

LETTER  FROM  GRANADA. 

Granada,  182R. 

My  Dear  :  Rehgious  festivals  furnish,  in  all  Catholic 

countries,  occasions  of  popular  pageant  and  recreation ;  but  in 
none  more  so  than  in  Spain,  where  the  great  end  of  rehgion 


156 


THE.  CRA  TON  PAPERS. 


seems  to  be  to  create  holidays  and  ceremonials.  For  two  days 
past,  Granada  has  been  in  a  gay  turmoil  with  the  great  annual 
fete  of  Corpus  Christi.  Tliis  most  eventful  and  romantic  city, 
as  you  well  know,  has  ever  been  the  rallying  point  of  a  moun- 
tainous region,  studded  with  small  towns  and  villages.  Hither, 
during  the  time  that  Granada  was  the  splendid  capital  of  a 
Moorish  Idngdom,  the  Moslem  youth  repaired  from  all  points, 
to  participate  in  chivalrous  festivities ;  and  hither  the  Spanish 
populace  at  the  present  day  throng  from  all  pai'ts  of  the  sur- 
rounding country  to  attend  the  festivcils  of  the  church. 

As  the  x^opulace  like  to  enjoy  thing-s  from  the  very  com- 
mencement, the  stir  of  Corpus  Christi  began  in  Granada  on  the 
preceding  evening.  Before  dark  the  gates  of  the  city  were 
thronged  with  the  picturesque  peasantry  from  the  mountain 
villages,  and  the  brown  laborers  from  the  Vega,  or  vast  fertile 
plain.  As  the  evening  advanced,  the  Vivarambla  thickened 
and  swarmed  with  a  motley  multitude.  This  is  the  great 
square  in  the  centre  of  the  city,  famous  for  tilts  and  tourneys 
during  the  time  of  Moorish  domination,  and  incessantly  men- 
tioned in  all  the  old  Moorish  ballads  of  love  and  chivalry.  For 
several  days  the  hammer  had  resounded  thi^oughout  this 
square.  A  gallery  of  wood  had  been  erected  all  round  it,  form- 
ing a  covered  way  for  the  grand  procession  of  Corpus  Christi. 
On  this  eve  of  the  ceremonial  this  gallery  was  a  fashionable 
promenade.  It  was  brilliantly  illuminated,  bands  of  music 
were  stationed  in  balconies  on  the  four  sides  of  the  square,  and 
all  the  fashion  and  beauty  of  Granada,  and  all  its  population 
that  could  boast  a  little  finery  of  apparel,  together  with  the 
majos  and  majas,  the  beaux  and  belles  of  the  villages,  in  their 
gay  Andalusian  costumes,  thronged  this  covered  walk,  anxious 
to  see  and  to  be  seen.  As  to  the  sturdy  peasantry  of  the  Vega, 
and  such  of  the  mountaineers  as  did  not  pretend  to  display,  but 
were  content  with  hearty  enjoyment,  they  swarmed  in  the 
centre  of  the  square ;  some  in  groups  listening  to  the  guitar  and 
the  traditional  ballad;  some  dancing  their  favorite  bolero: 
some  seated  on  the  ground  making  a  merry  though  frugal 
supper;  and  some  stretched  out  for  their  night's  repcse. 

The  gay  crowd  of  the  gallery  dispersed  gradually  toward 
midnight;  but  the  centre  of  the  square  resembled  the  bi\'Ouac 
of  an  army ;  for  hundreds  of  the  peasantry,  men,  women,  and 
children,  passed  the  night  there,  sleeping  soundly  on  the  bare 
earth,  under  the  open  canopy  of  heaven.  A  summer's  night 
requires  no  shelter  in  this  genial  climate;  and  with  a  great 


LETTER  FROM  GRANADA. 


157 


part  of  the  hardy  peasantry  of  Spain,  a  bed  is  a  superfluity 
which  many  of  them  never  enjoy,  and  which  they  affect  to 
despise.  The  common  Spaniard  spreads  out  his  manta,  or 
mule-cloth,  or  wraps  himself  in  his  cloak,  and  lies  on  the 
ground,  with  his  saddle  for  a  pillow. 

The  next  morning  I  revisited  the  square  at  sunrise.  It  was 
still  strewed  with  groups  of  sleepers ;  some  were  reposing  from 
the  dance  and  revel  of  the  evening ;  others  had  left  their  vil- 
lages after  work,  on  the  preceding  day,  and  having  trudged  on 
foot  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  were  takmg  a  sound  sleep  to 
freshen  them  for  the  festivities  of  the  day.  Numbers  from  the 
mountains,  and  the  remote  villages  of  the  plain,  ^vho  had  set 
out  in  the  night,  continued  to  arrive,  with  their  mves  and 
children.  All  were  in  high  spirits;  greeting  each  other,  and 
exchanging  jokes  and  pleasantries.  The  gay  tumult  thickened 
as  the  day  advanced.  Now  came  pouring  in  at  the  city  gates, 
and  parading  through  the  streets,  the  deputations  from  the 
various  villages,  destined  to  swell  the  grand  procession.  These 
village  deputations  were  headed  by  their  priests,  bearing  their 
respective  crosses  and  banners,  and  images  of  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin and  of  patron  saints;  all  which  were  matters  of  great 
rivalship  and  jealousy  among  the  peasantry.  It  was  like  the 
chivalrous  gatherings  of  ancient  days,  when  each  town  and 
village  sent  its  chiefs,  and  warriors,  and  standards,  to  defend 
the  capital,  or  grace  its  festivities. 

At  length,  all  these  various  detachments  congregated  into 
one  grand  pageant,  which  slowly  paraded  round  the  Viva- 
rambla,  and  through  the  principal  streets,  w^here  every  window 
and  balcony  was  hung  with  tapestry.  In  this  procession  were 
all  the  rehgious  ordei^,  the  civil  and  mihtary  authorities,  and 
the  chief  people  of  the  parishes  and  villages ;  every  church  and 
convent  had  contributed  its  bamiers,  its  images,  its  rehques, 
r.vA  poured  forth  its  wealth,  for  the  occasion.  In  the  centre 
of  the  pi'occssion  walked  the  archbishop,  under  a  damask  can- 
i  py,  and  surrounded  by  inferior  dignitaries  and  their  depen- 
dants. The  whole  moved  to  the  swell  and  ^iadence  of  numerous 
I  ands  of  music,  and,  passing  through  the  midst  of  a  countless 
yet  silent  multitude,  proceeded  onward  to  the  cathedral. 

I  could  not  but  be  struck  with  the  changes  of  times  and  cus- 
toms, as  I  saw  this  monkish  pageant  passing  through  the 
Vivarambla,  the  ancient  seat  of  modern  pomp  and  chivalry. 
The  contrast  was  indeed  forced  upon  the  mind  by  the  decora- 
tions of  the  square.    The  whole  front  of  the  wooden  gallery 


158 


THE  CUA  YON  PAPERS. 


erected  for  the  procession,  extending  several  hundred  feet,  was 
faced  with  canvas,  on  which  some  humble  though  patriotic 
artist  had  painted,  by  contract,  a  series  of  the  principal  scenes 
and  exploits  of  the  conquest,  as  recorded  in  chronicle  and 
romance.  It  is  thus  the  I'omantic  legends  of  Granada  mingle 
themselves  with  everything,  and  are  kept  fresh  in  the  public 
mind.  Another  gi^eat  festival  at  Granada,  answering  in  its 
popular  character  to  our  Fourth  of  July,  is  El  Dia  de  la  Toma  ; 
' '  The  Day  of  the  Capture that  is  to  say,  the  anniversary  of 
the  capture  of  the  city  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  On  this 
day  all  Granada  is  abandoned  to  revelry.  The  alarm  beU  on 
the  Terre  de  la  Campana,  or  watch-tower  of  the  Alhambra, 
keeps  up  a  clangor  from  morn  till  night;  and  happy  is  the 
damsel  that  can  ring  that  beU ;  it  is  a  charm  to  secure  a  hus 
band  in  the  course  of  the  year. 

The  sound,  which  can  be  heard  over  the  whole  Vega,  and  to 
the  top  of  the  mountains,  summons  the  peasantry  to  the  fes- 
tivities. Throughout  the  day  the  Alhambra  is  thrown  open  to 
the  iDublic.  The  halls  and  courts  of  the  Moorish  monarchs 
resound  with  the  guitar  and  Castanet,  and  gay  groups,  in  the 
fanciful  dresses  of  Andalusia,  perform  those  popular  dances 
\\'hich  they  have  mherited  from  the  Moors. 

In  the  meantime  a  grand  procession  moves  through  the  city. 
The  banner  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  that  precious  rehque  of 
the  conquest,  is  brought  forth  from  its  depository,  and  borne 
by  the  Alferez  Mayor,  or  grand  standard-bearer,  through  the 
principal  streets.  The  portable  camp-altar,  which  was  carried 
about  with  them  in  aU  their  campaigns,  is  transported  into  the 
chapel  royal,  and  placed  before  their  sepulchre,  where  their 
effigies  he  in  monumental  nmrble.  The  procession  fills  the 
chapel.  High  mass  is  performed  in  memory  of  the  conquest ; 
and  at  a  certain  part  of  the  ceremony  the  Alferez  Mayor  puts 
on  his  hat,  and  waves  the  standard  above  the  tomb  of  the  con- 
queroi-s. 

A  more  whimsical  memorial  of  the  conquest  is  exhibited  on 
the  same  evening  ^t  the  theatre,  where  a  popular  drama  is 
performed,  entitled  Ave  Mama.  This  turns  on  the  oft-simg 
achievement  of  Hernando  del  Pulgar,  sm-named  El  de  Za5 
Hazaiias,  "He  of  the  Exploits,"  the  favorite  hero  of  the  popu- 
lace of  Granada. 

During  the  time  that  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  besieged  tho 
city,  the  young  Moorish  and  Spanish  knights  vied  with  each 
other  in  extravagant  bravados.    On  one  occasion  Hernando  del 


lETTlCll  FROM  GRANADA. 


Pulgar,  at  the  head  of  a  handful  of  youthful  followers,  made  a 
dash  into  Granada  at  the  dead  of  night,  nailed  the  inscription 
of  Ave  Maria,  with  his  dagger,  to  the  gate  of  the  principal 
mosque,  as  a  token  of  having  consecrated  it  to  the  virgin,  and 
effected  his  retreat  in  safety. 

While  the  Moorish  cavaliers  admired  this  daring  exploit, 
they  felt  boimd  to  revenge  it.  On  the  following  day,  therefore, 
Tarfe,  one  of  the  stoutest  of  the  infidel  warriors,  paraded  in 
fi'ont  of  the  Christian  army,  dragging  the  sacred  inscription  of 
Ave  Maria  at  his  horse's  tail.  The  cause  of  the  Virgin  was 
eagerly  \'indicaied  by  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  who  slew  the  Moor 
in  single  combat,  and  elevated  the  inscription  of  Ave  Maria,  in 
devotion  and  triumph,  at  the  end  of  his  lance. 

The  drama  founded  on  this  exploit  is  prodigiously  popular 
with  the  coiximon  people.  Although  it  has  been  acted  time  out 
of  mind,  and  the  people  have  seen  it  repeatedly,  it  never  fails 
to  draw  crowds,  and  so  completely  to  engross  the  feelings  of 
the  audience,  as  to  have  almost  the  effect  on  them  of  reahty. 
When  their  favorite  Pulgar  strides  about  with  many  a  mouthy 
speech,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  Moorish  capital,  he  is  cheered 
with  enthusiastic  bravos ;  and  when  he  nails  the  tablet  of  Ave 
!RIaria  to  the  door  of  the  mosque,  the  theatre  absolutely  shakes 
with  shouts  and  thunders  of  applause.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
actors  who  play  the  part  of  the  Moors,  have  to  bear  the  brunt 
of  the  temporary  indignation  of  their  auditors ;  and  when  the 
infidel  Tarfe  plucks  down  the  tablet  to  tie  it  to  his  horse's  tail, 
many  of  the  people  absolutely  rise  in  fury,  and  are  ready  to 
jump  upon  the  stage  to  revenge  this  insult  to  the  Virgin. 

Beside  this  annual  festival  at  the  capital,  almost  every  vil- 
lage of  the  Vega  and  the  mountains  has  its  own  aimiversary, 
wherein  its  own  dehverance  from  the  Moorish  yoke  is  cele- 
brated with  uncouth  ceremony  and  rustic  pomp. 

On  these  occasions  a  kind  of  resurrection  takes  place  of 
ancient  Spanish  dresses  and  armor :  gi^eat  two-handed  swords, 
ponderous  arquebuses,  with  match-locks,  and  other  weapons 
and  accoutrements,  once  the  equipments  of  the  village  chiv- 
alry, and  treasured  up  from  generation  to  generation,  since 
the  time  of  the  conquest.  In  these  hereditary  and  historical 
garbs  some  of  the  most  sturdy  of  the  villagers  array  themselves 
as  champions  of  the  faith,  while  its  ancient  opponents  are  rep 
resented  by  another  band  of  villagers,  dressed  up  as  Moorish 
warriors.  A  tent  is  pitched  in  the  pubhc  square  of  the  village, 
within  which  is  an  altar,  and  an  image  of  the  Virgin.  The 


160 


THE  CRAYON  PArKUS. 


Spanish  warriors  approach  to  perform  their  devotions  at  this 
shrine,  but  are  opposed  by  the  infidel  Moslems,  who  surround 
the  tent.  A  mock  fight  succeeds,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
combatants  sometimes  forget  that  they  are  merely  playing  a 
part,  and  exchange  dry  blows  of  grievous  weight ;  the  fictitious 
Moors  esi^ecially  are  apt  to  bear  away  pretty  evident  marks  of 
the  pious  zeal  of  their  antagonists.  The  contest,  however,  in- 
variably terminates  in  favor  of  the  good  cause.  The  Moors 
are  defeated  and  taken  prisoners.  The  image  of  the  Virgin, 
rescued  from  thraldom,  is  elevated  in  triumph ;  and  a  grand 
procession  succeeds,  in  which  the  Spanish  conquerors  figure 
mth  great  vain-glory  and  applause,  and  their  captives  are  led 
in  chains,  to  the  uifinite  delight  and  edification  of  the  populace. 
These  annual  festivals  are  the  dehght  of  the  villagers,  who  ex- 
pend considerable  smns  in  then-  celebration.  In  some  villages 
they  are  occasionally  obliged  to  susi^end  them  for  want  of 
funds ;  but  when  times  grow  better,  or  they  have  been  enabled 
to  save  money  for  the  purpose,  they  are  revived  with  all  their 
grotesque  pomp  and  extravagance. 

To  recur  to  the  exploit  of  Hernando  del  Pulgar.  However 
extravagant  and  fabulous  it  may  seem,  it  is  authenticated  by 
certain  traditional  usages,  and  shows  the  vain-glorious  daring 
that  prevailed  between  the  youthful  warriors  of  both  nations, 
in  that  romantic  war.  The  mosque  thus  consecrated  to  the 
Virgin  was  made  the  cathedral  of  the  city  after  the  conquest ; 
and  there  is  a  pamting  of  the  Virgin  beside  the  royal  chapel, 
which  was  put  there  by  Hernando  del  Pulgar.  The  lineal  rep- 
resentative of  the  hare-brained  cavalier  has  the  right  to  this 
day  to  enter  the  church,  on  certain  occasions,  on  horseback,  to 
sit  within  the  choir,  and  to  put  on  his  hat  at  the  elevation  of 
the  host,  though  these  privileges  have  often  been  obstinately 
contested  by  the  clergy. 

T':e  present  lineal  representative  of  Hernando  del  Pulgar  is 
the  Marquis  de  Salar,  whom  I  have  met  occasionally  in  society. 
He  is  a  young  man  of  agreeable  appearance  and  mamiers,  and 
his  bright  black  eyes  would  give  indication  of  Ins  inheritmg 
the  fire  of  his  ancestor.  When  the  paintings  were  put  up  in 
the  Vivarambla,  illustrating  the  scenes  of  the  conquest,  an  old 
gray-headed  family  seiwant  of  the  Pulgars  was  so  delighted 
with  those  wliich  related  to  the  family  hero,  that  he  absolutely 
shed  tears,  and  hurrying  home  to  the  Marquis,  urged  liim  to 
hasten  and  behold  the  family  trophies.  The  sudden  zeal  of  the 
old  man  provoked  the  roii'th  of  his  young  master ;  upon  which 


ABDERAUMAN. 


161 


turning  to  the  brother  of  the  Marquis,  with  that  freedom 
allowed  to  family  servants  in  Spain,  "Come,  Senor,"  cried  he, 
"you  are  more  grave  and  considerate  than  yom-  brother; 
come  and  see  your  ancestor  in  all  his  glory !" 


Within  two  or  three  years  after  the  above  letter  was  written, 
the  Marquis  de  Salar  was  married  to  the  beautiful  daughter  of 

the  Count  ,  mentioned  by  the  author  in  his  anecdotes  of 

the  Alliambra.  The  match  was  very  agreeable  to  all  parties, 
and  the  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  great  festivity. 


ABDERAHMAN: 

FOUNDER  OF  THE  DYNASTY  OF  THE  OIMMIADES  IN  SPAIN. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Knickerbocker. 

Sir  :  In  the  following  memoir  I  have  conformed  to  the  facts 
furnished  by  the  Arabian  chroniclers,  as  cited  by  the  learned 
Conde.  The  story  of  Abderahman  has  almost  the  charm  of 
romance ;  but  it  derives  a  higher  interest  from  the  heroic  yet 
gentle  virtues  which  it  illustrates,  and  from  recording  the  for- 
tunes of  the  founder  of  that  splendid  dynasty,  which  shed  such 
a  lustre  upon  Spain  during  the  domination  of  the  Arabs.  Ab- 
derahman may,  in  some  respects,  be  compared  to  our  own 
Wasliington.  He  achieved  the  independence  of  Moslem  Spain, 
freeing  it  from  subjection  to  the  cahphs ;  he  united  its  jarring 
parts  under  one  government;  he  mled  over  it  with  justice, 
clemency,  and  moderation ;  his  whole  course  of  conduct  was 
distinguished  by  wonderful  forbearance  and  magnanimity ;  and 
when  he  died  he  left  a  legacy  of  good  example  and  good  coun- 
sel to  his  successors.  G.  C. 


"Blessed  be  God!"  exclaims  an  Arabian  historian;  "in  His 
hands  alone  is  the  destiny  of  princes.  He  overthrows  the 
mighty,  and  humbles  the  haughty  to  the  dust ;  and  he  raises 
up  the  persecuted  and  afflicted  from  the  very  depths  of  de- 
spair !" 

The  illustrious  house  of  Omeya  had  swayed  the  sceptre  at 
Damascus  for  nearly  a  century,  when  a  rebellion  broke  out, 


1G2 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


headed  by  Aboiil  Abbas  Safah,  who  aspired  to  the  throne  of 

the  caUphs,  as  being  descended  from  Abbas,  the  uncle  of  the 
prophet.  The  rebeUion  was  successful.  Marvau,  the  la^jt  caliph 
of  the  house  of  Omeya,  was  defeated  and  slain.  A  general 
proscription  of  the  Oniiniades  took  place.  Many  of  them  fell 
in  battle ;  many  were  treacherously  slain,  in  places  where  they 
had  taken  refuge ;  above  seventy  most  noble  and  distinguished 
were  murdered  at  a  banquet  to  which  they  had  been  invited, 
and  their  dead  bodies  covered  with  cloths,  and  made  to  serve 
as  tables  for  the  horrible  festivity.  Others  were  driven  forth, 
forlorn  and  desolate  wanderers  in  various  parts  of  the  earth, 
and  pursued  with  relentless  hatred ;  for  it  was  the  determina- 
tion of  the  usurper  that  not  one  of  the  persecuted  family  should 
escape.  Aboul  Abbas  took  possession  of  three  stately  palaces, 
and  dehcious  gardens,  and  founded  the  powerful  dynasty  of  the 
Abbassides,  which,  for  several  centuries,  maintained  dominion 
in  the  east. 

"Blessed  be  God !"  again  exclaims  the  Ai-abian  historian;  "it 
was  written  in  His  eternal  decrees  that,  notwithstanding  the 
fury  of  the  Abbassides,  the  noble  stock  of  Omeya  should  not  be 
destroyed.  One  fruitful  branch  remained  to  flourish  with  gloiy 
and  greatness  in  another  land." 

"When  the  sanguinary  proscription  of  the  Ommiades  took 
place,  two  young  princes  of  that  hne,  brothers,  by  the  names 
of  Solyman  and  Abderahman,  were  spared  for  a  time.  Their 
personal  graces,  noble  demeanor,  and  winning  affability,  had 
made  them  many  friends,  Avhile  their  extreme  youth  rendered 
them  objects  of  but  httle  dread  to  the  usm-per.  Their  safety, 
however,  was  but  transient.  In  a  httle  while  the  suspicions  of 
Aboul  Abbas  were  aroused.  The  unfortunate  Solyman  fell  be- 
neath the  scimitar  of  the  executioner.  His  brother  Abderahman 
was  warned  of  his  danger  in  tune.  Several  of  his  friends  has- 
tened to  him,  bringing  him  jewels,  a  disgTiise,  and  a  fleet  horse, 
"The  emissaries  of  the  cahph,"  said  they,  "are  in  search  of 
thee ;  thy  brother  Ues  weltering  in  his  blood ;  fly  to  the  desert ! 
There  is  no  safety  for  thee  in  the  habitations  of  man !" 

Abderahman  took  the  jewels,  clad  himself  in  the  disguise, 
and  mounting  his  steed,  fled  for  his  life.  As  he  passed,  a  lonely 
fugitive,  by  the  palaces  of  his  ancestors,  in  which  his  family 
had  long  held  sway,  their  very  walls  seemed  disposed  to  betray 
him,  as  they  echoed  the  swift  clattering  of  his  steed. 

Abandoning  his  native  country,  Syria,  where  he  was  liable 
at  each  moment  to  be  recognized  and  taken,  he  took  refuge 


AUDhUlAllMAN. 


1G3 


among  the  Bedouin  Arabs,  a  half -savage  race  of  shepherds.  His 
youth,  his  inborn  majesty  and  grace,  and.  the  sweetness  and 
affability  that  shone  forth  in  his  azure  eyes,  won  the  hearts  of 
these  wandering  men.  He  Avas  but  tv/enty  years  of  age,  and 
had  been  reared  in  the  soft  luxury  of  a  j^alace ;  but  he  was  tall 
and  vigorous,  and  in  a  little  while  hardened  himself  so  com- 
pletely to  the  rustic  life  of  the  fields  that  it  seemed  as  though 
he  had  passed  all  his  days  in  the  rude  simplicity  of  a  shepherd's 
cabin. 

His  enemies,  however,  were  upon  his  traces,  and  gave  him 
but  little  rest.  By  day  he  scoured  the  plain  with  the  Bedouins, 
hearing  in  every  blast  the  sound  of  pursuit,  and  fancying  in 
every  distant  cloud  of  dust  a  troop  of  the  cahph's  horsemen. 
His  night  was  passed  in  broken  sleep  and  frequent  watchings, 
and  at  the  earhest  dawn  he  was  the  first  to  put  the  bridle  to  his 
steed. 

Wearied  by  these  perpetual  alarms,  he  bade  farewell  to  his 
friendly  Bedouins,  and  leaving  Egypt  behind,  sought  a  safer 
refuge  in  Western  Africa.  The  province  of  Barea  was  at  that 
time  governed  by  Aben  Habib,  who  had  risen  to  rank  and  for- 
tmie  under  the  fostering  favor  of  the  Ommiades.  "Surely," 
thought  the  unhappy  prince,  "I  shall  receive  kindness  and 
protection  from  this  man;  he  will  rejoice  to  show  his  gratitude 
for  the  benefits  showered  upon  him  by  my  kindred." 

Abderahman  was  young,  and  as  yet  knew  Mttle  of  mankind. 
None  are  so  hostile  to  the  victun  of  poAver  as  those  whom  he 
has  befriended.  They  fear  being  suspected  of  gratitude  by  his 
persecutors,  and  involved  in  his  misfortunes. 

The  unfortunate  Abderahman  had  halted  for  a  few  days  to  re- 
pose himself  among  a  horde  of  Bedouins,  who  had  received  him 
v/ith  their  characteristic  hospitality.  They  would  gather  round 
him  in  the  evenings,  to  listen  to  his  conversation,  regarding 
with  wonder  tliis  gently-si^oken  stranger  from  the  more  refined 
country  of  Egypt.  The  old  men  marvelled  to  find  so  much 
knowledge  and  wisdom  in  such  early  youth,  and  the  young 
men,  won  by  his  frank  and  manly  carriage,  entreated  bun  to 
remain  among  them. 

One  night,  when  all  were  buried  in  sleep,  they  were  roused 
by  the  tramp  of  horsemen.  The  Wali  Aben  Habib,  who,  like 
all  the  governors  of  distant  ports,  had  received  orders  from  the 
caliph  to  be  on  the  watch  for  the  fugitive  prince,  had  heard 
that  a  young  man,  answering  the  description,  had  entered  the 
province  alone,  from  the  frontiers  of  Egypt,  on  a  steed  worn 


164 


TUE  CRA  TON  PAPERS. 


down  by  travel.  He  had  immediately  sent  forth  horsemen  in 
Ms  pm'suit,  with  orders  to  bring  him  to  him  dead  or  aUve, 
The  emissaries  of  the  Wali  had  traced  him  to  his  restmg-place, 
and  demanded  of  the  Arabs  whether  a  young  man,  a  stranger 
from  Syria,  did  not  sojourn  among  their  tribe.  The  Bedouins 
knew  by  the  description  that  the  stranger  must  be  their  guest, 
and  feared  some  evil  was  intended  him.  "Such  a  youth," 
said  they,  "  hps  indeed  sojourned  among  us;  but  he  has  gone, 
with  some  of  our  young  men,  to  a  distant  valley,  to  hmit  the 
lion."  The  emissaries  inquired  the  way  to  the  place,  and 
hastened  on  to  surprise  their  expected  prey. 

The  Bedoums  repaired  to  Abderahman,  who  was  still  sleep- 
ing. "If  thou  hast  aught  to  fear  from  man  in  power,"  said 
they,  "arise  and  fly ;  for  the  horsemen  of  the  Wali  are  in  quest 
of  thee !  We  have  sent  tliem  off  for  a  time  on  a  wrong  errand, 
but  they  will  soon  return." 

"Alas !  whither  shall  I  fly !"  cried  the  unhappj^  prince ;  "my 
enemies  hunt  me  like  the  ostrich  of  the  desert.  They  follow 
me  like  the  wind,  and  allow  me  neither  safety  nor  repose !" 

Six  of  the  bravest  youths  of  the  tribe  stepped  forward.  "We 
have  steeds, "said  they, "  that  can  outstrip  the  wind,  and  hands 
that  can  hurl  the  javehn.  We  will  accompany  thee  in  thy 
flight,  and  will  fight  by  thy  side  while  life  lasts,  and  we  have 
weapons  to  wield. " 

Abderahman  embraced  them  -with  tears  of  gratitude.  They 
mounted  then*  steeds,  and  made  for  the  most  lonely  parts  of 
the  desert.  By  the  faint  light  of  the  stars,  they  passed  through 
dreary  wastes,  and  over  hills  of  sand.  The  lion  roared,  and 
the  hyena  howled  unheeded,  for  they  fled  from  man,  more 
cruel  and  relentless,  when  in  pursuit  of  blood,  than  the  savage 
beasts  of  the  desert. 

At  sunrise  they  paused  to  refresh  themselves  beside  a  scanty 
well,  surrounded  by  a.  few  palm-trees.  One  of  the  young  Arabs 
climbed  a  tree,  and  looked  in  every  direction,  but  not  a  horse- 
man Avas  to  be  seen. 

"We  have  outstripped  pursuit,"  said  the  Bedouins:  "whither 
shall  we  conduct  thee?  Where  is  thy  home  and  the  land  of 
thy  people?" 

"  Home  have  I  none !"  rephed  Abderahman,  mournfully,  "nor 
family,  nor  kindred!  My  native  land  is  to  me  a  land  of  de- 
struction, and  my  people  seek  my  life !" 

The  hearts  of  the  youthful  Bedouins  were  touched  with  com- 
passion at  these  words,  and  they  marvel lr»d  that  one  so  young 


ABDERAUMAN, 


165 


and  gentle  should  have  suffered  such  great  sorrow  and  perse- 
cution. 

xlbdcrahman  sat  by  the  well,  and  mused  for  a  time.  At 
length, breaking  silence,  "In  the  midst  of  Mauritania, " said  he, 
"dwells  the  tribe  of  Zeneta.  My  mother  was  of  that  tribe; 
and  perhaps  when  her  son  presents  himself,  a  persecuted  wan- 
derer, at  their  door,  they  will  not  turn  him  from  the  thresh- 
old." 

"The  Zenctes,"  replied  the  Bedouins,  "are  among  the 
bravest  and  most  hospitable  of  the  people  of  Africa.  Never 
did  the  unfortunate  seek  refuge  among  them  in  vain,  nor 
was  the  stranger  repulsed  from  their  door."  So  they  mount- 
ed their  steeds  with  renewed  spirits,  and  journeyed  Avith  all 
speed  to  Tahart,  the  capital  of  the  Zenetes. 

When  Abderahman  entered  the  place,  followed  by  his  six 
rustic  Arabs,  aU  wayworn  and  travel-stained,  his  noble  and 
majestic  demeanor  shone  through  the  simple  garb  of  a  Bed- 
ouin. A  crowd  gathered  around  him,  as  he  alighted  from  liis 
weary  steed.  Confiding  in  the  well-known  character  of  the 
tribe,  he  no  longer  attempted  concealment. 

"  You  behold  before  you,"  said  he,  "one  of  the  proscribed 
house  of  Omeya.  I  am  tha^t  Abderahman  upon  whose  head  a 
price  has  been  set,  and  who  has  been  driven  from  land  to  land. 
I  come  to  you  as  my  kindred.  My  mother  was  of  your  tribe, 
and  she  told  me  with  her  dying  breath  that  in  all  time  of  need 
I  would  find  a  home  and  friends  among  the  Zenetes." 

The  words  of  Abderahman  went  straight  to  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers.  They  pitied  his  youth  and  his  great  misfortunes, 
while  they  were  charmed  by  his  frankness,  and  by  the  manly 
gi*aces  of  his  person.  The  tribe  was  of  a  bold  and  generous 
spirit,  and  not  to  be  awed  by  the  frown  of  power.  "  Evil  be 
upon  us  and  upon  our  children,"  said  they,  "  if  we  deceive 
the  trust  thou  hast  placed  in  us !" 

Then  one  of  the  noblest  Xeques  took  Abderahman  to  his 
house,  and  treated  him  as  his  own  child;  and  the  principal 
people  of  the  tribe  strove  who  most  should  cherish  him,  and  do 
him  honor;  endeavoring  to  obhterate  by  then-  kmdness  the 
recollection  of  his  past  misfortimes. 

Abderahman  had  resided  some  time  among  the  hospitable 
Zenetes,  when  one  day  two  strangers,  of  venerable  appearance, 
attended  by  a  small  retmue,  arrived  at  Tahart.  They  gave 
themselves  out  as  merchants,  and  from  the  simple  style  in 
which  they  travelled,  excited  no  attention.    In  a  little  while 


166 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


they  sought  out  Ahderahman,  and,  taking  him  apart*. 
"Hearken,"  said  they,  "Abderahman,  of  the  royal  line  oi 
Omeya ;  Ave  are  ambassadors  sent  on  the  part  of  the  principal 
Moslems  of  Spain,  to  offer  thee,  not  merely  an  asylum,  for  that 
thou  hast  already  among  these  brave  Zenetes,  but  an  empire ! 
Spain  is  a  prey  to  distracting  factions,  and  can  no  longer  exist 
as  a  dependance  upon  a  thi'one  too  remote  to  watch  over  its 
welfare.  It  needs  to  be  independent  of  Asia  and  Africa,  and 
to  be  under  the  government  of  a  good  prince,  who  shall  reside 
within  it,  and  devote  himself  entii-ely  to  its  prosperity;  a 
prince  with  sufficient  title  to  silence  all  rival  claims,  and  bring 
the  warring  parties  into  unity  and  peace;  and  at  the  same 
time  with  sufficient  ability  and  virtue  to  insure  the  welfare  of 
his  dominions.  For  this  purpose  the  eyes  of  all  the  honorable 
leaders  in  Spain  have  been  turned  to  thee,  as  a  descendant  of 
the  royal  hne  of  Omeya,  and  an  offset  from  the  same  stock  as 
our  holy  prophet.  They  have  heard  of  thy  virtues,  and  of  thy 
admirable  constancy  under  misfortmies;  and  invite  thee  to 
accept  the  sovereignty  of  one  of  the  noblest  countries  in  the 
world.  Thou  wilt  have  some  difficulties  to  encounter  from 
hostile  men ;  but  thou  wilt  have  on  thy  side  the  bravest  cap 
tains  that  have  signalized  themselves  in  the  conquest  of  tho 
unbelievers." 

The  ambassadors  ceased,  and  Abderahman  remained  for  a 
time  lost  in  wonder  and  admiration.  "God  is  great  I"  ex- 
claimed he,  at  length;  "  there  is  but  one  God,  who  is  God,  and 
Mahomet  is  his  prophet!  Illustrious  ambassadors,  you  have 
put  new  life  into  my  soul,  for  you  have  shown  me  something 
to  live  for.  In  the  fevv^  years  that  I  have  lived,  troubles  and 
sorrows  have  been  heaped  upon  my  head,  and  I  have  become 
inured  to  hardships  and  alarms.  Since  it  is  the  wish  of  the 
valiant  Moslems  of  Spain,  I  am  willing  to  become  their  leader 
and  defender,  and  devote  myself  to  their  cause,  be  it  happy  or 
disastrous." 

The  ambassadors  now  cautioned  him  to  be  silent  as  to  their 
errand,  and  to  depart  secretly  for  Spain.  "The  sea-board  of 
Africa,"  said  they,  "  swarms  with  your  enemies,  and  a  power- 
ful faction  in  Spam  would  intercept  you  on  landing,  did  they 
know  your  name  and  rank,  and  the  object  of  your  coming. " 

But  Abderahman  replied :  "  I  have  been  cherished  in  adver- 
sity by  these  brave  Zenetes ;  I  ha,ve  been  protected  and  hon- 
ored by  them,  Avhen  a  price  was  set  upon  my  head,  and  to 
harbor  me  was  great  ueril.    How  can  I  keei)  my  good  fortune 


ABBFJiA  I i:\rAN. 


1G7 


from  my  benefactors,  and  desert  their  hospitable  roofs  in 
silence?  He  is  unworthy  of  friendship,  who  ^vithholds  confi- 
dence from  his  friend." 

Charmed  with  the  generosity  of  his  feelings,  the  ambassadors 
made  no  opposition  to  his  wishes.  The  Zenetes  proved  them- 
selves worthy  of  his  confidence.  They  hailed  with  joy  the 
great  change  in  his  fortunes.  The  warriors  and  the  young 
men  pressed  forward  to  follow,  and  aid  them  with  horse  and 
weapon;  "for  the  honor  of  a  noble  house  and  family,"  said 
they,  "can  be  maintained  only  by  lances  and  horsemen."  In 
a  few  days  he  set  forth,  with  the  ambassadors,  at  the  head  of 
nearly  a  thousand  horsemen,  skilled  in  war,  and  exercised  in 
the  desert,  and  a  large  body  of  infantry,  armed  with  lances. 
The  venerable  Xeque,  ^Yiih.  w^hom  he  had  resided,  blessed  him, 
and  shed  tears  over  him  at  parting,  as  though  he  had  been  his 
own  child ;  and  when  the  youth  passed  over  the  threshold,  the 
house  was  filled  with  lamentations. 

Abderahman  reached  Spain  in  safety,  and  landed  at  Almane- 
car,  with  his  httle  band  of  warlike  Zenetes.  Spain  was  at  that 
time  in  a  state  of  great  confusion.  Upward  of  forty  years 
had  elapsed  since  the  conquest.  The  civil  wars  in  Syria  and 
Egypt  had  prevented  the  main  government  at  Damascus  from 
exercising  control  over  this  distant  and  recently  acquired  ter- 
ritory. Every  Moslem  commiinder  considered  the  town  or 
province  committed  to  his  charge,  an  absolute  property;  and 
accordingly  exercised  the  most  arbitrary  extortions.  These 
excesses  at  length  became  insupportable,  and,  at  a  convocation 
of  many  of  the  principal  leaders,  it  was  determined,  as  a  means 
to  end  these  dissensions,  to  unite  all  the  Moslem  provinces  of 
Spain  under  one  Emir,  cr  General  Governor.  Yusuf  el  Fehri, 
an  ancient  man,  of  honorable  hneage,  was  chosen  for  this 
station.  He  began  his  reign  with  policy,  and  endeavored  to 
conciliate  all  parties;  but  the  distribution  of  offices  soon 
created  pov/erful  enemies  among  the  disappointed  leaders.  A 
civil  war  was  the  consequence,  and  Spain  was  deluged  with 
blood.  The  troops  of  both  parties  burned  and  ravaged  and 
laid  everytliing  waste,  to  distress  their  antagonists;  the  vil- 
lages were  abandoned  by  their  inhabitants,  who  fled  to  the 
cities  for  refuge ;  and  flourishing  towns  disappeared  from  the 
face  of  the  earth,  or  remained  mere  heaps  of  rubbish  and 
ashes.  At  the  time  of  the  landing  of  Abderahman  in  Spain,  the 
old  Emir  Yusuf  had  obtained  a  signal  victory.  He  had  cap- 
tured Saragossa,  in  which  was  Ameer  ben  Aim-u,  his  principal 


Till':  CRAYON  i\ir/:ns. 


enemy,  together  with  bis  son  and  secretary.  Loading  his  pri- 
Boners  with  chains,  and  putting  them  on  camels,  he  set  out  in 
tn'umph  for  Cordova,  considering  himself  secure  in  the  abso- 
lute domination  of  Spain. 

lie  had  halted  one  day  in  a  valley  called  Wadarambla,  and 
was  reposing  with  his  family  in  his  pavihon.  while  his  people 
and  the  prisoners  made  a  repast  in  the  open  air.  In  the  midst 
of  his  repose,  his* confidential  adherent  and  general,  the  Wali 
Samael,  galloped  into  the  camp  covered  with  dust,  and  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue.  He  brought  tidings  of  the  arrival  of 
Abderahman,  and  that  the  whole  sea-board  was  flocking  to  his 
standard.  Messenger  after  messenger  came  hurrj-ing  into  the 
camp,  confirming  the  fearful  tidinsrs,  and  adding  that  this 
descendant  of  the  Omeyas  had  secretly  been  invited  to  Spain 
by  Amru  and  his  followers.  Yusuf  waited  not  to  ascertain 
the  truth  of  this  accusation.  Giving  way  to  a  transport  of 
fury,  he  ordered  that  Amru,  his  son  and  secretary,  should 
be  cut  to  pieces.  His  conunands  were  instantly  executed. 
"And  this  cruelty,"  says  the  Arabian  chronicler,  "lost  him 
the  favor  of  Allah;  for  from  that  time,  success  deserted  his 
standard." 

Abderahman  had  indeed  been  hailed  with  joy  on  his  landing 
in  Spain.  The  old  people  hoped  to  find  tranquillity  under  the 
sway  of  one  supreme  chieftain,  descended  fi'om  their  ancient 
caliphs;  the  young  men  were  rejoiced  to  have  a  youthful  war- 
rior to  lead  them  on  to  victories ;  and  the  populace,  charmed 
with  his  freshness  and  manly  beauty,  his  majestic  yet  gracious 
and  affable  demeanor,  shouted:  "Long  live  Abderahman  ben 
Moa^da  Meramamolin  of  Spain !" 

In  a  few  days  the  youthful  sovereign  saw  himself  at  the 
head  of  more  than  twenty  thousand  men,  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Elvira,  Almeria,  Malaga,  Xeres,  and  Sldonia.  Fair 
Seville  threw  open  its  gates  at  his  approach,  and  celebrated  h^"s 
arrival  with  public  rejoicings.  He  continued  his  march  into 
the  country,  vanquished  one  of  the  sons  of  Yusuf  before  the 
gates  of  Cordova,  and  obliged  him  to  take  refuge  within  its 
walls,  where  he  held  him  in  close  siege.  Hearing,  however,  of 
the  approach  of  Yusuf,  the  father,  ^dth  a  powerfid  army,  he 
divided  his  forces,  and  leaving  ten  thousand  men  to  press  the 
siege,  he  hastened  with  the  other  ten  to  meet  the  coining  foe. 

Yusuf  had  indeed  mustered  a  formidable  force,  from  the 
east  and  south  of  Spain,  and  accompanied  by  his  veteran  gene- 
ral, Samael,  came  with  confident  boasting  to  drive  this  in- 


ABDERAUMAN. 


1G9 


truder  from  the  land.  His  confidence  increased  on  beholding 
tho  small  army  of  Abderahman.  Turning  to  Samael,  he  re- 
peated, with  a  scornful  sneer,  a  verse  from  an  Arabian  poetess, 
which  says : 

' '  How  hard  is  our  lot !  We  come,  a  thirsty  multitude,  and 
lo !  but  this  cup  of  v/ater  to  share  among  us !" 

There  was  indeed  a  fearful  odds.  On  the  one  side  were  twc 
veteran  generals,  gTOwn  gi*ay  in  victory,  with  a  mighty  host 
of  warriors,  seasoned  in  the  wars  of  Spain.  On  the  other  side 
was  a  mere  youth,  scarce  attained  to  manliood,  with  a  hasty 
levy  of  half-disciplined  troops;  but  the  youth  was  a  prince, 
flushed  with  hope,  and  aspiring  after  fame  and  empiie;  and 
surrounded  by  a  devoted  band  of  warriors  from  Africa,  whose 
example  infused  desperate  zeal  into  the  little  army. 

The  encounter  took  place  at  daybreak.  The  mipetuous  valor 
of  the  Zenetes  carried  everything  before  it.  The  cavalry  of 
Yusuf  was  broken,  and  driven  back  upon  the  infantry,  and 
before  noon  the  whole  host  was  put  to  headlong  flight.  Yusuf 
and  Samael  were  borne  along  in  the  torrent  of  the  fugitives, 
raging  and  storming,  and  making  ineffectual  efforts  to  rally 
them.  They  were  separated  widely  in  the  confusion  of  the 
flight,  one  taldng  refuge  in  the  Algarves,  the  other  in  the 
kingdom  of  Murcia.  They  afterward  rallied,  reunited  their 
forces,  and  made  another  desperate  stand  near  Almunecar. 
The  battle  was  obstinate  and  bloody,  but  they  were  again 
defeated,  and  driven,  with  a  handful  of  followers,  to  take 
refuge  in  the  rugged  mountains  adjacent  to  Elvira. 

The  spirit  of  the  veteran  Samael  gave  way  before  these  fear- 
ful reverses.  "In  vain,  0  Yusuf!"  said  he,  "do  we  contend 
with  the  prosperous  star  of  this  youthful  conqueror :  the  will 
of  Allah  be  done !  Let  us  submit  to  our  fate,  and  sue  for  favor- 
able terms,  while  we  have  yet  the  means  of  capitulation." 

It  was  a  hard  trial  for  the  proud  spirit  of  Yusuf,  that  had 
once  aspired  to  uncontrolled  sway ;  but  he  was  compelled  to 
capitulate.  Abderahman  was  as  generous  as  brave.  He 
gTanted  the  two  gray -headed  generals  the  most  honorable  con- 
ditions, and  even  took  the  veteran  Samael  into  favor,  employ- 
ing him,  as  a  mark  of  confidence,  to  visit  the  eastern  provinces 
of  Spain,  and  restore  them  to  tranquillity.  Yusuf,  havmg  de- 
livered up  Elvira  and  Granada,  and  complied  with  other  arti- 
cles of  his  capitulation,  was  permitted  to  retire  to  Murcia,  and 
rejoin  his  son  Muhamad.  A  general  amnesty  to  ail  chiefs  and 
soldiers  who  should  yield  up  their  strongholds,  and  lay  down 


170 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


their  arms,  completed  the  trimnph  of  Abderahman,  and  brought 
all  hearts  into  obedienco. 

Thus  terminated  tliis  severe  struggle  for  the  domination  of 
Spain;  and  thus  the  illustrious  family  of  Omeya,  after  having 
been  cast  down  and  almost  exterminated  in  the  East,  took  new 
root,  and  sprang  forth  prosperously  in  the  West. 
^  Wherever  Abderaliman  appeared,  he  was  received  with  rap- 
turous acclamations.  As  he  rode  through  the  cities,  the  popu- 
lace rent  the  air  with  shouts  of  joy ;  the  stately  palaces  were 
crowded  with  spectators,  eager  to  gain  a  sight  of  his  graceful 
form  and  beaming  countenance;  and  when  they  beheld  the 
mingled  majesty  and  benignity  of  their  new  monarch,  and  the 
sweetness  and  gentleness  of  his  whole  conduct,  they  extolled 
liim  as  somethmg  more  than  mortal ;  as  a  beneficent  genius, 
sent  for  the  happiness  of  Spain. 

In  the  interval  of  peace  wliich  now  succeeded,  Abderalunan 
occupied  himself  in  promoting  the  useful  and  elegant  arts,  and 
in  introducing  into  Spain  the  refinements  of  the  East.  Con- 
sidering the  building  and  ornamenting  of  cities  as  among  the 
noblest  employments  of  the  tranquil  hours  of  princes,  he  be- 
stowed great  pains  upon  beautif  jnng  the  city  of  Cordova  and 
its  environs.  He  reconstructed  banks  and  dykes,  to  keep  the 
Guadalquiver  from  overfloAving  its  borders,  and.  on  the  vast 
terraces  thus  formed,  he  planted  dehghtful  gardens.  In  the 
midst  of  these,  he  erected  a  lofty  tower,  commanding  a  view 
of  the  vast  and  fruitful  valley,  enhvened  by  the  windings  of  the 
river.  In  tliis  tower  he  would  pass  hours  of  meditation,  gaz- 
ing on  the  soft  and  varied  landscape,  and  inUaling  the  bland 
and  balmy  airs  of  that  delightful  reg-ion.  At  such  times,  his 
thoughts  would  recur  to  the  past,  and  the  misfortunes  of  his 
youth;  the  massacre  of  his  family  would  rise  to  view,  mingled 
with  tender  recollections  of  his  native  country,  from  which  he 
was  exiled.  In  these  melancholy  musings  he  would  sit  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  palm-tree  which  he  had  planted  in  the 
•nidst  of  his  garden.  It  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  ever 
planted  in  Spain,  and  to  have  been  the  parent-stock  of  all  the 
pahn-trees  which  grace  the  southern  provinces  of  the  pem'nsula. 
Tiie  heart  of  Abderahman  yearned  toward  this  tree;  it  was  the 
offspring  of  his  native  country,  and  lilce  him,  an  exile.  In  one 
of  his  moods  of  tenderness,  he  composed  verses  upon  it.  which 
have  since  become  famous  throughout  the  world.  The  follow- 
ing is  a  rude  but  literal  translation : 

"  Beauteous  Pahn !  thou  also  wert  hither  brought  a  stranger: 


ABDEBAUMAN. 


171 


but  thy  roots  have  found  a  kindly  soil,  thy  head  is  lifted  to 
the  skies,  and  tlie  sweet  aii*s  of  Algarve  fondle  and  kiss  thy 
branches. 

"  Thou  liast  known,  hke  me,  the  storms  of  adverse  fortune. 
Bitter  tears  wouldst  thou  shed,  couldst  thou  feel  my  woes. 
Repeated  griefs  liave  overwhelmed  me.  With  early  tears  i  be- 
dewed the  pahns  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates;  but  neither 
tree  nor  river  heeded  my  sorrows,  when  driven  by  cruel  fate, 
and  the  ferocious  Aboul  Abbas,  from  the  scenes  of  my  child- 
hood and  the  sweet  objects  of  my  affection. 

' '  To  thee  no  remembrance  remains  of  my  beloved  country ; 
I,  unliappy !  can  never  recall  it  without  tears.-' 

The  generosity  of  Abderahman  to  his  vanquished  foes  was 
destined  to  be  abused.  The  veteran  Yusuf,  in  visitiag  certain 
of  the  cities  which  he  had  surrendered,  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  zealous  partisans,  ready  to  peril  life  in  his  service. 
The  love  of  command  revived  in  nis  bosom,  and  he  rex)ented 
the  f acihty  with  which  he  had  suffered  himseK  to  be  persuaded 
to  submission.  .Flushed  with  new  hopes  of  success,  he  caused 
arms  to  be  secretly  collected,  and  deposited  in  various  villages, 
most  zealous  in  their  i^rof  essions  of  devotion,  and  raising  a  con- 
siderable body  of  troops,  seized  upon  the  castle  of  Almodovar. 
The  rash  rebelhon  was  short-hved.  At  the  first  appearance  of 
an  army  sent  by  Abderahman,  and  commanded  by  Abdelme- 
lee,  governor  of  Seville,  the  villages  which  had  so  recently  pro- 
fessed loyalty  to  Yusuf,  hastened  to  declare  their  attachment 
to  the  monarch,  and  to  give  up  the  concealed  arms.  Almodo- 
var was  soon  retaken,  and  Yusuf,  driven  to  the  environs  of 
Lorea,  was  surrounded  by  the  cavalry  of  Abdelmelee.  The 
veteran  endeavored  to  cut  a  passage  through  the  enemy,  but 
after  fighting  with  desperate  fury,  and  with  a  force  of  arm  in- 
credible in  one  of  bis  age,  he  feU  beneath  blows  from  weapons 
of  a]l  kinds,  so  that  after  the  battle  his  body  could  scarcely  be 
recognized,  so  numerous  were  the  wounds.  His  head  was  cut 
otf  and  sent  to  Cordova,  where  it  was  placed  in  an  iron  cage, 
over  the  gate  of  the  city. 

Tlie  old  lion  was  dead,  but  his  whelps  survived.  Yusuf  had 
left  three  sons,  who  inherited  his  warhke  spirit,  and  were  eager 
to  revenge  his  death.  Collecting  a  number  of  the  scattered 
adherents  of  their  house,  they  surprised  and  seized  upon  To- 
ledo, during  the  absence  of  Temam,  its  Wall  or  commander. 
In  this  old  warrior  city,  buUt  upon  a  rock,  and  almost  sur- 
rounded by  the  Tagus.  they  set  up  a  kind  of  robber  hold. 


172 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


scouring  the  surrounding  country,  levying  tribute,  seizing  upon 
horses,  and  compelhng  the  peasantry  to  join  their  standard. 
Every  day  cavalcades  of  horses  and  mules,  laden  with  spoil, 
with  flocks  of  sheep  and  droves  of  cattle,  came  pouring  over 
the  bridges  on  either  side  of  the  city,  and  thronging  in  at  the 
gates,  the  iilunder  of  the  surrounding  country.  Those  of  the 
inhabitants  who  were  still  loyal  to  Abderahman  dared  not  lift 
up  their  voices,  for  men  of  the  sword  bore  sway.  At  length 
one  day,  when  the  sons  of  Yusuf ,  w  ith  their  choicest  troops, 
were  out  on  a  maraud,  the  watchmen  on  the  towers  gave  the 
alarm.  A  troop  of  scattered  horsemen  were  spurring  wildly 
toward  the  gates.  The  banners  of  the  sons  of  Yusuf  were 
descried.  Two  of  them  spurred  into  the  city,  followed  by  a 
handful  of  warriors,  covered  with  confusion  and  dismay. 
They  had  been  encountered  and  defeated  by  the  WaU  Temam, 
and  one  of  the  brothers  had  been  slain. 

The  gates  were  secured  in  all  haste,  and  the  walls  were 
scarcely  manned,  when  Temam  appeared  before  them  with  his 
troops,  and  summoned  the  city  to  surrender.  A  great  internal 
commotion  ensued  between  the  loyalists  and  the  insurgents; 
the  latter,  however,  had  weapons  in  their  hands,  and  prevailed ; 
and  for  several  days,  trusting  to  the  strength  of  their  rock- 
built  fortress,  they  set  the  Wall  at  defiance.  At  length  some 
of  the  loyal  inhabitants  of  Toledo,  who  knew  all  its  secret  and 
subterraneous  passages,  some  of  which,  if  chroniclers  may  be 
believed,  have  existed  since  the  days  of  Hercules,  if  not  of 
Tubal  Cain,  introduced  Temam  and  a  chosen  band  of  his  war- 
riors into  the  very  centre  of  the  city,  where  they  suddenly 
appeared  as  if  by  magic.  A  panic  seized  upon  the  insurgents. 
Some  sought  safety  in  submission,  some  in  concealment,  some 
in  flight.  Casim,  one  of  the  sons  of  Yusuf,  escaped  in  disguise ; 
the  youngest,  unarmed,  was  taken,  and  was  sent  captive  to 
the  king,  accompanied  by  the  head  of  his  brother,  who  had  been 
sJain  in  battle. 

When  Abderahman  beheld  the  youth  laden  with  chains,  he 
remembered  his  own  sufferings  in  his  early  days,  and  had  com- 
passion on  him;  but,  to  prevent  him  from  doing  further  mis- 
chief, he  imprisoned  him  in  a  tower  of  the  waU  of  Cordova. 

In  the  meantime  Casim,  who  had  escaped,  managed  to  raise 
another  band  of  warriors.  Spain,  in  all  ages  a  guerilla  coun- 
try, prone  to  partisan  warfare  and  petty  maraud,  was  at  that 
time  infested  by  bands  of  licentious  troops,  who  had  sprung 
up  in  the  civil  contests  j  their  only  object  pillage,  their  only 


ABBERAHMAN. 


173 


dependence  the  sword,  and  ready  to  flock  to  any  new  and 
desperate  standard,  that  promised  the  greatest  Hcense.  With 
a  ruffian  force  thus  levied,  Ca^sim  scoured  the  country,  took 
Sidonia  by  storm,  and  surprised  Seville  while  in  a  state  of 
unsuspecting  security. 

Abderaliman  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  faithful  Zenetes, 
and  took  the  field  in  person.  By  the  rapidity  of  his  move- 
ments, tlie  rebels  were  defeated,  Sidonia  and  Seville  speedily 
i-etaken,  and  Casim  was  made  prisoner.  The  generosity  of 
Abderahman  was  again  exhibited  toward  this  unfortunate  son 
of  Yusuf .  He  spared  his  life,  and  sent  him  to  be  confined  in  a 
tovrer  at  Toledo. 

The  veteran  Samael  had  taken  no  part  in  these  insurrections, 
but  had  attended  faitlifully  to  the  affairs  intrusted  to  him  by 
Abdcrahm.an.  The  death  of  his  old  friend  and  colleague, 
Yusuf,  however,  and  the  subsequent  disasters  of  his  family, 
filled  him  with  despondency.  Fearing  the  inconstancy  of  for- 
tune, and  the  dangers  incident  to  public  employ,  he  entreated 
the  king  to  be  permitted  to  retire  to  his  house  in  Seguenza, 
and  indulge  a  privacy  and  repose  suited  to  his  advanced  age. 
His  prayer  was  granted.  The  veteran  laid  by  his  arms,  bat- 
tered in  a  thousand  conflicts ;  hung  his  svf  ord  and  lance  against 
the  wall,  and,  surrounded  by  a  few  friends,  gave  himself  up 
apparently  to  the  sweets  of  quiet  and  unambitious  leisure. 

Who  can  count,  however,  upon  the  tranquil  content  of  a 
heart  nurtured  amid  the  storms  of  war  and  ambition !  Under 
the  ashes  of  this  outward  humility  were  glowing  the  coals  of 
faction.  In  his  seemingly  philosophical  retirement,  Samael  was 
concerting  with  his  friends  new  treason  against  Abderahman. 
His  plot  was  discovered ;  his  house  was  suddenly  surrounded 
by  troops ;  and  he  was  conveyed  to  a  tower  at  Toledo,  where, 
in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  he  died  in  captivity. 

The  magnanimity  of  Abderahman  was  again  put  to  the 
proof,  by  a  new  insurrection  at  Toledo.  Hixem  ben  i^.dra,  a 
relation  of  Yusuf,  seized  upon  the  Alcazar,  or  citadel,  slew 
'several  of  the  royal  adherents  of  the  king,  liberated  Casim 
from  his  tower,  and,  summoning  all  the  banditti  of  the  coun- 
try, soon  mustered  a  force  of  ten  thousand  men.  Abderahman 
was  quickly  before  the  walls  of  Toledo,  v/ith  the  troo])s  of 
Cordova  and  his  devoted  Zenetes.  The  rebels  were  brought  to 
terms,  and  surrendered  the  city  on  promise  of  general  pardon, 
which  was  extended  even  to  Hixem  and  Casim.  "V^Haen  the 
chieftains  saw  Hixem  and  his  principal  confederates  in  the 


174 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


power  of  Abderahman,  they  advised  him  to  put  them  all  to 
death.  "A  promise  given  to  traitors  and  rebels,"  said  they, 
"is  not  binding,  when  it  is  to  the  interest  of  the  state  that  it 
should  be  broken." 

"No !"  rephed  Abderahman,  "if  the  safety  of  my  thront  were 
at  stake,  I  would  not  break  my  word."   So  saying,  he  con- 
firmed the  amnesty,  and  granted  Hixem  ben  Adra  a  worthless! 
life,  to  be  employed  in  farther  treason. 

Scarcely  had  Abderahman  returned  from  this  expedition, 
when  a  powerful  army,  sent  by  the  cahph,  landed  from  Africa 
on  the  coast  of  the  Algarves.  The  commander,  Aly  ben 
Mogueth,  Emir  of  Cairvan,  elevated  a  rich  banner  which  he 
had  received  from  the  hands  of  the  caliph.  Wherever  he 
went,  he  ordered  the  cahph  of  the  East  to  be  proclaimed  by 
sound  of  trumpet,  denouncing  Abderahman  as  a  usurper,  the 
vagrant  member  of  a  family  proscribed  and  execrated  in  all 
the  mosques  of  the  East. 

One  of  the  first  to  join  his  standard  was  Hixem  ben  Adra,  so 
recently  pardoned  by  Abderahman.  He  seized  upon  the  cita- 
del of  Toledo,  and  repaii-ing  to  the  camp  of  Aly,  offered  to 
deliver  the  city  into  his  hands. 

Abderahman,  as  bold  in  war  as  he  was  gentle  in  peace,  took 
the  field  with  his  wonted  promptness ;  overthrew  his  enemies, 
with  great  slaughter,  drove  some  to  the  sea-coast  to  regain 
their  ships,  and  others  to  the  mountains.  The  body  of  Aly  was 
found  on  the  field  of  battle.  Abderahman  caused  the  head  to 
be  struck  off,  and  conveyed  to  Cairvan,  where  it  was  affixed 
at  night  to  a  column  in  the  pubhc  square,  with  this  inscription : 
* '  Thus  Abderahman,  the  descendant  of  the  Omeyas,  punishes 
the  rash  and  arrogant."  Hixem  ben  Adra  escaped  from  the 
field  of  battle,  and  excited  farther  troubles,  but  was  eventually 
captured  by  Abdelmelee,  who  ordered  his  head  to  be  struck 
off  on  the  spot,  lest  he  should  again  be  spared,  through  the 
wonted  clemency  of  Abderahman. 

Notwithstanding  these  signal  triumphs,  the  reign  of  Abder- 
ahman was  disturbed  by  farther  insurrections,  and  by  another 
descent  from  Africa,  but  he  was  victorious  over  them  all; 
striking  the  roots  of  his  j^ower  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  land. 
Under  his  sway,  the  government  of  Spain  became  more  reg- 
ular and  consolidated,  and  acquired  an  independence  of  the 
empire  of  the  East.  The  caliph  continued  to  be  considered  as 
first  pontiff  and  chief  of  the  rehgion,  but  he  ceased  to  have  any 
temporal  power  over  Spain. 


ABDERAIIMAN. 


175 


Having  again  an  interval  of  peace,  Abderahman  devoted 
himself  to  the  education  of  his  children.  Suleiman,  the  eldest, 
he  appointed  Wali,  or  governor,  of  Toledo;  Abdallah,  the 
second,  was  intrusted  with  the  command  of  Merida ;  but  the 
third  son,  Hixem,  was  the  delight  of  his  heart,  the  son  of 
Howara,  his  favorite  sultana,  whom  he  loved  throughout  life 
with  the  utmost  tenderness.  With  this  youth,  w^ho  was  full 
of  promise,  he  relaxed  from  the  fatigues  of  government ;  join- 
ing in  his  youthful  sports  amid  the  delightful  gardens  of  Cor- 
dova, and  teaching  him.  the  gentle  art  of  falconry,  of  which 
the  king  was  so  fond  that  he  received  the  name  of  the  Falcon 
of  Coraixi. 

Wliile  Abderahman  was  thus  indulging  in  the  gentle  pro- 
pensities of  his  nature,  mischief  was  secretly  at  work.  Muha- 
mad,  the  youngest  son  of  Yusuf ,  had  been  for  many  years  a 
prisoner  in  the  tower  of  Cordova.  Being  passive  and  resigned, 
his  keepers  relaxed  their  vigilance,  and  brought  him  forth 
from  his  dungeon.  He  went  groping  about,  however,  in 
broad  daylight,  as  if  still  in  the  darkness  of  his  tower.  His 
guards  watched  him  narrowly,  lest  this  should  be  a  deception, 
but  were  at  length  convinced  that  the  long  absence  of  hght 
had  rendered  liim  blind.  They  now  permitted  him  to  descend 
frequently  to  the  lower  chambers  of  the  tower,  and  to  sleep 
there  occasionally,  during  the  heats  of  summer.  They  even 
allowed  him  to  grope  his  way  to  the  cistern,  in  quest  of  water 
for  his  ablutions. 

A  year  passed  in  this  way  without  anything  to  excite  sus- 
picion. During  all  this  time,  however,  the  blindness  of  Muha- 
mad  was  entirely  a  deception ;  and  he  was  concerting  a  plan 
of  escape,  through  the  aid  of  some  friends  of  his  father,  who 
found  means  to  visit  him  occasionally.  One  sultry  evening 
in  midsummer,  the  guards  had  gone  to  bathe  in  the  Guadal- 
quiver,  leaving  Muhamad  alone,  in  the  lower  chambers  of  the 
tower.  No  sooner  were  they  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  than  he 
hastened  to  a  ^™dow  of  the  stair-case,  leading  down  to  the 
cistern,  lowered  himself  as  far  as  his  arms  would  reach,  and 
dropped  without  injury  to  the  gi^ound.  Plunging  into  the 
Guadalquiver,  he  swam  across  to  a  thick  grove  on  the  opposite 
side,  where  his  friends  were  waiting  to  receive  him.  Here, 
moimting  a  horse  which  they  had  provided  for  an  event  of  the 
kind,  he  fled  across  the  country,  by  sohtary  roads,  and  made 
good  his  escape  to  the  mountains  of  Jaen. 

The  guardians  of  the  tower  dreaded  for  some  time  to  make 


176 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


known  his  flight  to  Abderahman.  When  at  length  it  was  told 
to -him,  he  exclaimed:  "All  is  the  work  of  eternal  wisdom;  it 
is  intended  to  teach  us  that  we  cannot  benefit  the  wicked  with^ 
out  injuring  the  good.  The  flight  of  that  blind  man  will  cause 
much  trouble  and  bloodshed." 

His  predictions  were  verified.  Muhamad  reared  the  stan- 
dard of  rebellion  on  the  mountains ;  the  seditious  and  discon 
tented  of  all  kinds  hastened  to  join  it,  together  with  soldiers 
of  fortune,  or  rather  wandering  banditti,  and  he  had  soon  six 
thousand  men,  well  armed,  hardy  in  habits,  and  desperate 
in  character.  His  brother  Casim  also  reappeared  about  the 
same  time  in  the  mountains  of  Ronda,  at  the  head  of  a  daring 
band  that  laid  all  the  neighboring  valleys  under  contribution. 

Abderahman  summoned  his  alcaydes  from  their  various  mili- 
tary posts,  to  assist  in  driving  the  rebels  from  their  mountain 
fastnesses  into  the  plains.  It  was  a  dangerous  and  protracted 
toil,  for  the  mountains  were  frightfully  wild  and  rugged.  He 
entered  them  with  a  powerful  host,  driving  the  rebels  from 
height  to  haight  and  valley  to  valley,  and  harassing  them  by  a 
galling  fire  from  thousands  of  cross-bows.  At  length  a  deci- 
sive battle  took  place  near  the  river  Guadalemar.  The  rebels 
were  signally  defeated;  four  thousand  fell  in  action,  inany 
were  drowned  in  the  river,  and  Muhamad,  with  a  few  horse- 
men, escaped  to  the  mountains  of  the  Algarves.  Here  he  was 
hunted  by  the  alcaydes  from  one  desolate  retreat  to  another ; 
his  few  followers  grew  tired  of  shaiing  the  disastrous  fortunes 
of  a  fated  man ;  one  by  one  deserted  him,  and  he  himself  de- 
serted the  remainder,  fearing  they  might  give  him  up,  to  pur- 
chase their  own  pardon. 

Lonely  and  disguised,  he  plunged  into  the  depths  of  the 
forests,  or  lurked  in  dens  and  caverns,  like  a  famished  wolf, 
often  casting  back  his  thoughts  AvLth  regret  to  the  time  of  hir^ 
captivity  in  the  gloomy  tower  of  Cordova.  Hunger  at  length 
drove  him  to  Alarcon,  at  the  risk  of  being  discovered.  Famine 
and  misery,  however,  had  so  wasted  and  changed  him,  that  lie 
was  not  recognized.  He  remained  nearly  a  year  in  Alarcon, 
unnoticed  and  unknown,  yet  constantly  tormenting  himself 
with  the  dread  of  discovery,  and  with  groundless  fears  of  the 
vengeance  of  Abderahman.  Death  at  length  put  an  end  to  his 
wretchedness. 

A  milder  fate  attended  his  brother  Casim.  Being  defeated 
in  the  mountains  of  Murcia,  he  was  conducted  in  chains  to 
Cordova.    On  coming  into  the  presence  of  Abderahman,  his 


ABDFAIAIIMAN. 


177 


once  fierce  and  haughty  spirit,  broken  by  distress,  gave  way ; 
he  throw  himself  on  the  earth,  liissed  the  dust  beneath  the  feet 
of  the  king,  and  implored  his  clemency.  The  benignant  heart 
of  Abderahman  was  filled  with  melancholy,  rather  than  exul- 
tation, at  beholding  this  wreck  of  the  once  haughty  family  of 
Yusuf  a  suppliant  at  his  feet,  and  suing  for  mere  existence. 
He  thought  upon  the  inutability  of  fortune,  and  felt  how  in- 
secure are  all  her  favors.  He  raised  the  unhappy  Casim  from 
the  earth,  ordered  his  irons  to  be  taken  off,  and,  not  content 
with  mere  forgiveness,  treated  him  with  honor,  and  gave  him 
possessions  in  Seville,  where  he  might  hve  in  state  conform- 
able to  the  ancient  dignity  of  his  family.  Won  by  this  great 
and  persevering  magnanimity,  Casiir  ever  after  remained  one 
of  the  most  devoted  of  his  subjects. 

All  the  enemies  of  Abderahman  were  at  length  subdued ;  he 
reigned  undisputed  sovereign  of  the  Moslems  of  Spain ;  and  so 
benign  was  his  government,  that  every  one  blessed  the  revival 
of  the  illustj'ious  line  of  Omeya.  He  was  at  all  times  accessible 
to  the  humblest  of  his  subjects :  the  poor  man  ever  found  in 
him  a  friend,  and  the  oppressed  a  protector.  He  unproved  the 
administration  of  justice ;  established  schools  for  public  instruc- 
tion ;  encouraged  poets  and  men  of  letters,  and  cultivated  the 
sciences.  He  built  mosques  in  every  city  that  he  visited ;  in- 
culcated religion  by  example  as  well  as  by  precept ;  and  cele- 
brated all  the  festivals  prescribed  by  the  Koran,  with  the 
utmost  magnificence. 

As  a  monument  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the  prosperity  with 
which  he  had  been  favored,  he  undertook  to  erect  a  mosque  in 
his  favorite  city  of  Cordova,  that  should  rival  in  splendor  the 
great  mosque  of  Damascus,  and  excel  the  one  recently  erected 
in  Bagdad  by  the  Abbassides,  the  supplanters  of  his  family. 

It  is  said  that  he  himself  furnished  the  plan  for  this  famous 
edifice,  and  even  worked  on  it,  with  liis  own  hands,  one  hour 
in  each  day,  to  testify  his  zeal  and  humility  in  the  service  of 
God,  and  to  animate  his  workmen.  He  did  not  live  to  see  it 
completed,  but  it  was  finished  according  to  his  plans  by  his 
son  Hixem.  When  finished,  it  surpassed  the  most  splendid 
mosques  of  the  east.  It  was  six  hundred  feet  in  length,  and 
two  hundred  and  fifty  in  breadth.  Within  were  twenty-eight 
aisles,  crossed  by  nineteen,  supported  by  a  thousand  and  ninety- 
three  columns  of  marble.  There  were  nineteen  portals,  covered 
with  plates  of  bronze  of  rare  workmanship.  The  princi])al 
portal  was  covered  with  plates  of  gold.    On  the  summit  of  the 


178 


THE  CRAYON  rAFERS. 


grand  cupola  were  three  gilt  balls  surmounted  by  a  golden 
pomegranate.  At  night,  the  mosque  was  illuminated  with 
four  thousand  seven  hundred  lamps,  and  gi-eat  sums  were 
expended  in  amber  and  aloes,  which  were  burned  as  perfumes. 
The  mosque  remains  to  this  day,  shorn  of  its  ancient  splendor, 
yet  still  one  of  the  grandest  Moslem  monuments  in  Spain. 

Fmding  himself  advancing  in  years,  Abderahman  assembled 
in  his  capital  of  Cordova  the  principal  governors  and  com- 
manders of  his  kingdom,  and  in  presence  of  them  all,  with 
great  solemnity,  nominated  his  son  Hixem  as  the  successor  to 
the  throne.  All  jDresent  made  an  oath  of  fealty  to  Abderah- 
man during  his  life,  and  to  Hixem  after  his  death.  The  prince 
was  younger  than  his  brothers,  Soleiman  and  Abdallah;  but 
he  was  the  son  of  Howara,  the  tenderly  beloved  sultana  of 
Abderahman,  and  her  influence,  it  is  said,  gained  him  this 
preference. 

Within  a  few  months  afterward,  Abderahman  fell  grievously 
sick  at  Merida.  Finding  his  end  approaching,  he  summoned 
Hixem  to  his  bedside:  "My  son,"  said  he,  "  the  angel  of  death 
is  hovering  over  me ;  treasure  up,  therefore,  in  thy  heart  this 
dying  counsel,  which  I  give  through  the  great  love  I  bear  thee. 
Eemember  that  all  empire  is  from  God,  who  gives  and  takes  it 
away,  according  to  his  pleasure.  Since  God,  through  his 
divine  goodness,  has  given  us  regal  power  and  authority,  let 
us  do  his  holy  vnR,  which  is  nothing  else  than  to  do  good  to  all 
men,  and  especially  to  those  committed  to  our  protection. 
Eender  equal  justice,  my  son,  to  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and 
never  suffer  injustice  to  be  done  within  thy  dominion,  for  it  is 
the  road  to  perdition.  Be  merciful  and  benignant  to  those 
dependent  upon  thee.  Confide  the  government  of  thy  cities 
and  provinces  to  men  of  worth  and  experience ;  pumsh  without 
compassion  those  ministers  who  oppress  thy  people  with  exor- 
bitant exactions.  Pay  thy  troops  punctually;  teach  them  to 
feel  a  certainty  in  thy  promises ;  command  them  with  gentle- 
ness but  firmness,  and  make  them  in  truth  the  defenders  of 
the  state,  not  its  destroyers.  Cultivate  unceasingly  the  affec- 
tions of  thy  people,  for  in  their  good-^vill  consists  the  security 
of  the  state,  in  their  distrust  its  peril,  in  their  hatred  its  cer- 
tain ruin.  Protect  the  husbandmen  who  cultivate  the  earth, 
and  yield  us  necessary  sustenance ;  never  permit  their  fields, 
and  groves,  and  gardens  to  be  disturbed.  In  a  word,  act  in 
such  wise  that  thy  people  may  bless  thee,  and  may  crijoy, 
under  the  shadow  of  thy  wing,  a  secure  and  tranquil  life.  In 


THE  WIDOW'S  ORDtJAL, 


179 


this  consists  good  government;  if  thou  dost  practise  it,  thou 
wilt  be  happy  among  thy  people,  and  renowned  throughout 
the  world." 

Having  given  this  excellent  counsel,  the  good  king  Abderah- 
man  blessed  his  son  Hixem,  and  shortly  after  died ;  being  but 
in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  interred  with  great 
pomp ;  but  the  highest  honors  that  distinguished  his  funeral 
were  the  tears  of  real  sorrow  shed  upon  his  grave.  He  left 
behind  him  a  name  for  valor,  justice,  and  magnanimity,  and 
forever  famous  as  being  the  founder  of  the  glorious  line  of  the 
Ommiades  in  Spain. 


THE  WIDOW'S  ORDEAL, 

OR  A  JUDICIAL  TRIAL  BY  COMBAT. 

The  world  is  daily  growing  older  and  wiser.  Its  institutions 
vary  with  its  years,  and  mark  its  growing  wisdom ;  and  none 
more  so  than  its  modes  of  investigating  truth,  and  ascertaining 
guilt  or  innocence.  In  its  nonage,  when  man  was  yet  a  fallible 
being,  and  doubted  the  accuracy  of  his  own  intellect,  appeals 
were  made  to  heaven  in  dark  and  doubtful  cases  of  atrocious 
accusation. 

The  accused  was  required  to  plunge  his  hand  in  boiling  oil, 
or  to  walk  across  red-hot  ploughshares,  or  to  maintain  his 
innocence  in  armed  fight  and  listed  field,  in  person  or  by 
champion,  li  he  passed  these  ordeals  unscathed,  he  stood 
acquitted,  and  the  result  Avas  regarded  as  a  verdict  from  on 
high. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that,  in  the  gallant  age  of 
chivalry,  the  gentler  sex  should  have  been  most  frequently  the 
subjects  of  these  rude  trials  and  perilous  ordeals;  and  that, 
too,  when  assailed  in  their  most  dehcate  and  vulnerable  part — 
clieir  honor. 

In  the  present  very  old  and  enhghtened  age  of  the  world, 
when  the  human  intellect  is  perfectly  competent  to  the  man- 
agement of  its  own  concerns,  and  needs  no  special  interposition 
of  heaven  in  its  affairs,  the  trial  by  jury  has  superseded  these 
superhuman  ordeals ;  and  the  unanimity  of  twelve  discordant 
minds  is  necessary  to  constitute  a  verdict.  Such  a  unanimity 
would,  at  first  sight,  appear  also  to  require  a  miracle  from 
heaven;  but  it  is  pi-oduced  by  a  simple  device  of  hiunan 


180 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


ingenuity.  The  twelve  jurors  are  locked  up  in  their  box,  there 
to  fast  until  abstinence  shall  have  so  clarified  their  intellects 
that  the  whole  jarring  panel  can  discern  the  truth,  and  concur 
in  a  unanimous  decision.  One  point  is  certain,  that  truth  is 
one,  and  is  immutable — ^imtil  the  jurors  all  agree,  they  cannot 
all  be  right. 

It  is  not  our  intention,  however,  to  discuss  this  great  judicial 
point,  or  to  question  the  avowed  superiority  .of  the  mode  of 
investigating  truth  adopted  in  this  antiquated  and  very  saga- 
cious era.  It  is  our  object  merely  to  exhibit  to  the  curious 
reader  one  of  the  most  memorable  cases  of  judicial  combat  we 
find  in  the  annals  of  Spain.  It  occurred  at  the  briglit  com- 
mencement of  the  reign,  and  in  the  youtliful,  and,  as  yet, 
glorious  days,  of  Roderick  the  Goth;  who  subsequently  tar- 
nished his  fame  at  home  by  his  misdeeds,  and,  finally,  lost  his 
kingdom  and  his  life  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalete,  in  that 
disastrous  battle  which  gave  up  Spain  a  conquest  to  the  Moors. 
The  following  is  the  story : 

There  was  once  upon  a  time  a  certain  duke  of  Lorraine,  who 
was  acknowledged  throughout  liis  domains  to  be  one  of  the 
wisest  princes  that  ever  lived.  In  fact,  there  was  no  one 
measure  adopted  by  him  that  did  not  astonish  his  privy  coun- 
sellors and  gentlemen  in  attendance ;  and  he  said  such  witty 
things,  and  made  such  sensible  speeches,  that  the  jaws  of  his 
high  chamberlain  were  well-nigh  dislocated  from  laughing  with 
delight  at  one,  and  gaping  with  wonder  at  the  other. 

This  very  witty  and  exceedingly  wdse  potentate  lived  for 
half  a  century  in  single-blessedness;  at  length  his  courtiers 
began  to  think  it  a  great  pity  so  wise  and  wealthy  a  prince 
should  not  have  a  child  after  his  own  Hkeness,  to  inherit  his 
talents  and  domains ;  so  they  urged  liim  most  respectfully  to 
marry,  for  the  good  of  his  estate,  and  the  welfare  of  his  sub- 
jects. 

He  turned  their  advice  over  in  his  mind  some  four  or  five 
years,  and  then  sent  forth  emissaries  to  summon  to  his  court 
all  the  beautiful  maidens  in  the  land  who  were  ambitious  of 
sharing  a  ducal  crown.  The  court  was  soon  crowded  with 
beauties  of  all  styles  and  complexions,  from  among  whom  he 
chose  one  in  the  earliest  budding  of  her  charms,  and  acknow- 
ledged by  all  the  gentlemen  to  be  unparalleled  for  grace  and 
loveliness.  The  courtiers  extolled  the  duke  to  the  skies  for 
making  such  a  choice,  and  considered  it  another  proof  of  his 
great  wisdom.    " The  duke,"  said  they,  "is  waxing  a  little  too 


TUK  WIDOWS  ORBEAL. 


181 


old,  the  damsel,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  little  too  young;  if  one 
is  lacking  in  years,  the  other  has  a  superabundance;  thus  a 
wa,nt  on  one  side  is  balanced  by  the  excess  on  the  other,  and 
the  result  is  a  well-assorted  marriage." 

The  duke,  as  is  often  the  case  with  wise  men  who  marry 
rather  late,  and  talj:e  damsels  rather  youthful  to  their  bosoms, 
became  dotingly  fond  of  his  wife,  and  very  properly  indulged 
her  in  all  things.  He  was,  consequently,  cried  up  by  his  sub- 
jects in  general,  and  by  the  ladies  in  particular,  as  a  pattern 
for  husbands ;  and,  in  the  end,  from  the  wonderful  docility 
with  which  he  submitted  to  be  reined  and  checked,  acquired 
the  amiable  and  enviable  appellation  of  Duke  Philibert  the 
wife-ridden. 

There  was  only  ons  thing  that  disturbed  the  conjugal  felicity 
of  this  paragon  of  husbands — though  a  considerable  time 
elapsed  after  his  marriage,  there  was  still  no  prospect  of  an 
heir.  The  good  duke  left  no  means  untried  to  propitiate 
Heaven.  He  made  vows  and  pilgrimages,  he  fasted  and  he 
prayed,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  courtiers  were  all  aston- 
ished at  the  circumstance.  They  could  not  account  for  it. 
While  the  meanest  peasant  in  the  country  had  sturdy  brats  by 
dozens,  without  putting  up  a  prayer,  the  duke  wore  huuself  to 
skin  and  bone  with  penances  and  fastings,  yet  seemed  farther 
off  from  his  object  than  ever. 

At  leng-th,  the  vforthy  j^rince  fell  dangerously  ill,  and  felt  his 
end  approacliing.  He  looked  sorrowfully  and  dubiously  upon 
liis  young  and  tender  spouse,  who  hung  over  him  with  tears 
and  sobbings.  "Alas!"  said  he,  "tears  are  soon  dried  from 
youthful  eyes,  and  sorrow  lies  lightly  on  a  youthful  heart.  In 
a  little  while  thou  wilt  forget  in  the  arms  of  another  husband 
him  who  has  loved  thee  so  tenderly." 

"Never!  never!"  cried  the  duchess.  " Never  wiU  I  cleave 
to  another !  Alas,  that  my  lord  should  think  me  capable  of 
such  inconstancy  i"  r 

The  worthy  and  wife-ridden  duke  was  soothed  by  her  assui 
ances ;  for  he  could  not  brook  the  thought  of  giving  her  up 
even  after  he  should  be  dead.    Still  he  wished  to  have  some 
pledge  of  her  enduring  constancy : 

"  Fa-r  be  it  from  me,  my  dearest  wife,"  said  he,  "to  control 
thee  through  a  long  life.  A  year  and  a  day  of  strict  fideUty 
will  appease  my  troubled  spirit.  Promise  to  remain  faithful  to 
my  memory  for  a  year  and  a  day,  and  I  will  die  in  peace. " 

The  duchess  made  a  solenm  vow  to  that  effect,  but  the  uxori- 


» 

182  THE  CUAYON  PAPERS. 


ous  feelings  of  the  duke  were  not  yet  satisfied .  '  *  Safe  hind,  safe 
find,"  thought  he;  so  he  made  a  will,  bequeathing  to  her  all  hiP 
domains,  on  condition  of  her  remaining  true  to  him  for  a  year 
and  a  day  after  his  decease ;  but,  should  it  appear  that,  withm 
that  time,  she  had  in  any\\dse  lapsed  from  her  fidehty,  the  in- 
heritance should  go  to  his  nephew,  the  lord  of  a  neighboring 
territory. 

Having  made  his  will,  the  good  duke  died  and  was  buried. 
Scarcely  was  he  in  his  tomb,  when  his  nepnew  came  to  take 
possession,  thinking,  as  his  uncle  had  died  without  issue,  the 
domains  would  be  devised  to  him  of  course.  He  was  in  a  furi- 
ous passion,  when  the  will  was  produced,  and  the  young  widow 
declared  inheritor  of  the  dukedom.  As  he  was  a  violent,  high- 
handed man,  and  one  of  the  sturdiest  knights  in  the  land,  fears 
were  entertaiued  that  he  might  attempt  to  seize  on  the  terri- 
tories by  force.  He  had,  however,  two  bachelor  uncles  for 
bosom  counsellors,  swaggermg,  rakehelly  old  cavaliers,  who, 
ha^Ting  led  loose  and  riotous  lives,  prided  themselves  upon 
knowing  the  world,  and  being  deeply  experienced  in  human 
nature.  "Prithee,  man,  be  of  good  cheer,"  said  they,  "the 
duchess  is  a  young  and  buxom  widow.  She  has  just  buried 
our  brother,  who,  God  rest  his  soul !  was  somewhao  too  much 
given  to  praying  and  fasting,  and  kept  Ms  pretty  wife  always 
tied  to  his  girdle.  She  is  now  lilie  a  bh-d  from  a  cage.  Think 
you  she  will  keep  her  vow?  Pooh,  pooh— impossible!  Take 
our  words  for  it — we  know  mankind,  and,  above  all,  woman- 
kind. She  cannot  hold  out  for  such  a  length  of  time ;  it  is  not 
in  womanhood— it  is  not  in-svidoAvhood— we  know  it,  and  that's 
enough.  Keep  a  sharp  look-out  upon  the  widow,  therefore, 
and  within  the  twelvemonth  you  will  catch  her  tripping— and 
then  the  dukedom  is  your  own." 

The  nephew  Avas  pleased  with  ttfis  counsel,  and  immediately 
placed  spies  round  the  duchess,  and  bribed  several  of  her  ser- 
vants to  keep  watch  upon  her,  so  that  she  could  not  take  a 
single  step,  even  from  one  apartment  of  her  palace  to  another, 
Avithout  being  observed.  Never  was  young  and  beautiful 
widow  exposed  to  so  terrible  an  ordeal. 

The  duchess  was  aware  of  the  watch  thus  kept  upon  her. 
Though  confident  of  her  own  rectitude,  she  knew  that  it  is  not 
enough  for  a  woman  to  be  virtuous— she  must  be  above  the 
reach  of  slander.  For  the  whole  term  of  her  probation,  there- 
fore, she  proclaimed  a  strict  non-intercourse  with  the  other 
sex.    She  had  females  for  cabinet  ministers  and  chamberlains, 


THE  WIDOW'S  ORDEAL. 


183 


through  whom  she  transacted  all  her  public  and  private  con- 
cerns ;  and  it  is  said  that  never  were  the  affairs  of  the  duke- 
dom so  adroitly  administered. 

All  males  were  rigorously  excluded  from  the  palace;  she 
never  went  out  of  its  precincts,  and  whenever  she  moved  about 
its  courts  and  gardens,  she  surroimded  herself  with  a  body- 
guard of  young  maids  of  honor,  commanded  by  dames  re- 
nowned for  discretion.  She  slept  in  a  bed  -without  curtains, 
placed  in  the  centre  of  a  room  illuminated  by  innumerable  wax 
tapers.  Four  ancient  spinsters,  virtuous  as  Virginia,  perfect 
dragons  of  watchfulness,  who  only  slept  during  the  daytime, 
kept  vigils  throughout  the  night,  seated  in  the  four  corners  of 
the  room  on  stools  without  backs  or  arms,  and  with  seats  cut 
in  checkers  of  the  hardest  wood,  to  keep  them  from  dozing. 

Thus  wisely  and  vv^arily  did  the  young  duchess  conauct  her- 
self for  twelve  long  months,  and  slander  almost  bit  her  tongue 
oif  in  despair,  at  finding  no  room  even  for  a  surmise.  Never 
was  ordeal  more  burden  some,  or  more  enduringly  sustained. 

The  year  passed  away.  The  last,  odd  day  arrived,  and  a  long, 
long  day  it  was.  It  was  the  twenty-first  of  June,  the  longest 
day  in  the  year.  It  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  come  to  an 
end.  A  thousand  times  did  the  duchess  and  her  ladies  watch 
the  sun  from  the  windows  of  the  palace,  as  he  slowly  climbed 
the  vault  of  heaven,  and  seemed  still  more  slowly  to  roll  down. 
They  could  not  help  expressing  their  wonder,  now  and  then,  why 
the  duke  should  have  tagged  this  supernumerary  day  to  the 
end  of  the  year,  as  if  tnree  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  were 
not  sufficient  to  try  and  task  the  fidelity  of  any  woman.  It  is 
the  last  grain  that  turns  the  scale — the  last  drop  that  overflows 
the  goblet — and  the  last  moment  of  delay  that  exhausts  the 
patience.  By  the  time  the  sun  sank  below  the  horizon,  the 
duchess  was  in  a  fidget  that  passed  all  bounds,  and,  though 
several  hours  were  yet  to  pass  before  the  day  regularly  expired, 
she  could  not  have  remained  those  hours  in  durance  to  gain  a 
royal  crown,  much  less  a  ducal  coronet.  So  she  gave  orders, 
and  her  palfrey,  magnificently  caparisoned,  was  brought  into 
the  court-yard  of  the  castle,  with  palfreys  for  all  her  ladies  in 
attendance.  In  this  way  she  sallied  forth,  just  as  the  sun  had 
gone  down.  It  was  a  iTiission  of  piety — a  pilgrim  cavalcade  to 
a  convent  at  the  foot  of  a  neighboring  mountain — to  return 
thanks  to  the  blessed  Virgin,  for  having  sustained  her  throug^h 
this  fearful  ordeal. 

The  orisons  performed,  the  duchess  and  her  ladies  returned. 


184  THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 

ambling  gently  along  the  border  of  a  forest.  It  was  about  that 
mellow  hour  of  twiUght  when  night  and  day  are  mingled,  and 
all  objects  are  indistinct.  Suddenly,  some  monstrous  animal 
sprang  from  out  a  thicket,  with  fearful  bowlings.  The  female 
body-guard  was  thrown  into  confusion,  and  fled  different  ways. 
It  was  some  time  before  they  recovered  from  their  panic,  and 
gathered  once  more  together ;  but  the  duchess  was  not  to  be 
found.  The  greatest  anxiety  was  felt  for  her  safety.  The 
hazy  mist  of  twilight  had  prevented  their  distinguishing  per- 
fectly the  animal  which  had  affrighted  them.  Some  thought 
it  a  wolf,  others  a  bear,  others  a  wild  man  of  the  woods.  For 
upwards  of  an  nour  did  they  beleaguer  the  forest,  without 
daring  to  venture  in,  and  were  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the 
duchess  as  torn  to  pieces  and  devoured,  when,  to  their  great  joy, 
they  beheld  her  advancing  in  the  gloom,  supported  by  a  stately 
cavalier. 

He  was  a  stranger  knight,  whom  nobody  knew.  It  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  his  countenance  in  the  dark ;  but  all 
the  ladies  agreed  that  he  was  of  noble  presence  and  captiva^ting 
address.  He  had  rescued  the  duchess  from  the  very  fangs  of 
the  monster,  which,  he  assured  the  ladies,  was  neither  a  wolf, 
nor  a  bear,  nor  yet  a  wild  man  of  the  woods,  but  a  veritable 
fiery  dragon,  a  species  of  monster  peculiarly  hostile  to  beautiful 
females  in  the  days  of  chivalry,  and  which  aU  the  efforts  of 
knight-errantry  had  not  been  able  to  extirpate. 

The  ladies  crossed  themselves  when  they  heard  of  the  danger 
from  which  they  had  escaped,  and  could  not  enough  admire 
the  gallantry  of  the  cavaHer.  The  duchess  would  fain  have 
prevailed  on  her  dehverer  to  accompany  her  to  her  court ;  but 
he  had  no  time  to  spare,  being  a  knight-errant,  who  had  many 
adventures  on  nand,  and  many  distressed  damsels  and  afflicted 
widows  to  rescue  and  relieve  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 
Taking  a  respectful  leave,  therefore,  he  pursued  his  wayfaring, 
and  the  duchess  and  her  train  returned  to  the  palace.  Through- 
out the  whole  way,  the  ladies  were  unwearied  in  chanting  the 
praises  of  the  stranger  knight,  nay,  many  of  them  would  will- 
ingly have  incurred  the  danger  of  the  dragon  to  have  enjoyed 
the  happy  deliverance  of  the  duchess.  As  to  the  latter,  she 
rode  pensively  along,  but  said  nothing. 

No  sooner  was  the  adventure  of  the  wood  made  public,  than 
a  whirlwind  was  raised  about  the  ears  of  the  beautiful  duchess. 
The  blustering  nephew  of  the  deceased  duke  went  about,  armed 
to  the  teeth,  with  a  swaggering  uncle  at  each  shoulder,  ready 


THE  WIDOW'S  ORDEAL. 


185 


to  back  him,  and  swore  the  duchess  had  forfeited  her  domain. 
It  was  in  vain  that  she  called  all  the  saints,  and  angels,  and  her 
ladies  in  attendance  into  the  bargain,  to  witness  that  she  had 
passed  a  year  and  a  day  of  immaculate  fidelity.  One  fatal 
hour  remained  to  be  accounted  for ;  and  into  the  space  of  one 
little  hour  sins  enough  may  be  conjured  up  by  evil  tongues,  to 
blast  the  fame  of  a  whole  life  of  virtue. 

The  two  gi-aceless  uncles,  who  had  seen  the  world,  were  ever 
ready  to  bolster  the  matter  through,  and  as  they  were  brawny, 
broad-shouldered  warriors,  and  veterans  in  brav/1  as  well  as 
debauch,  they  had  great  sway  v/ith  the  multitude.  If  any  one 
pretended  to  assert  the  innocence  of  the  duchess,  they  inter- 
rupted him  with  a  loud  ha!  ha!  of  derision.  "  A  pretty  story, 
truly,"  would  they  cry,  "about  a  wolf  and  a  dragon,  and  a 
young  widow  rescued  in  the  dark  by  a  sturdy  varlet  v/ho  dares 
not  show  his  face  in  the  daylight.  You  may  tell  that  to  those 
who  do  not  know  human  nature,  for  our  parts  we  know  the 
sex,  and  that's  enough." 

If,  however,  the  other  repeated  his  assertion,  they  would 
suddenly  Jinit  their  brows,  swell,  look  big,  and  put  their  hands 
upon  their  swords.  As  few  people  hke  to  fight  in  a  cause  that 
does  not  touch  their  OAvn  interests,  the  nephew  and  the  uncles 
were  suiTered  to  have  their  way,  and  swagger  uncontradicted. 

The  matter  was  at  length  referred  to  a  tribunal,  composed  of 
all  the  dignitaries  of  the  dukedom,  and  many  and  repeated 
consultations  were  held .  The  character  of  the  duchess  through- 
out the  year  was  as  bright  and  spotless  as  the  moon  in  a  cloud- 
less night;  one  fatal  hour  of  darkness  alone  intervened  to 
eclipse  its  brightness.  Finding  human  sagacity  incapable  of 
dispelling  the  mystery,  it  was  determined  to  leave  the  question 
to  heaven ;  or  in  other  words,  to  decide  it  by  the  ordeal  of  the 
sword— a  sage  tribunal  in  the  age  of  chivalry.  The  nephew 
and  two  bully  uncles  were  to  maintain  their  accusation  in 
hsted  combat,  and  six  months  were  allowed  to  the  duchess  to 
provide  herself  with  three  champions,  to  meet  them  in  the 
field.  Should  she  fail  in  this,  or  should  her  champions  be 
vanquished,  her  honor  would  be  considered  as  attainted,  lier 
fidelity  as  forfeit,  and  her  dukedom  would  go  to  the  nephe^v, 
as  a  matter  of  right. 

With  this  determination  the  duchess  was  fain  to  comply. 
Proclamations  were  accordingly  made,  and  heralds  sent  to 
various  parts ;  but  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  and  month 
after  month,  elapsed,  without  any  champion  appearing  to  assert 


186 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


her  loyalty  throughout  that  darksome  hour.  The  fair  widow 
was  reduced  to  despaii^,  when  tidings  reached  her  of  grand 
tournaments  to  be  held  at  Toledo,  in  celebration  of  the  nup- 
tials of  Don  Eoderick,  the  last  of  the  Gothic  kings,  ^vitil  the 
Morisco  prmcess  Exilona.  As  a  last  resort,  the  duchess  i-e- 
paired  to  the  Spanish  court,  to  implore  the  gallantry  of  its 
assembled  chivalry. 

The  ancient  city  of  Toledo  was  a  scene  of  gorgeous  revelry 
on  the  event  of  the  royal  nuptials.  The  youthful  king,  brave, 
ardent,  and  magnificent,  and  his  lovely  bride,  beaming  with 
all  the  radiant  beauty  of  the  East,  were  hailed  with  shouts  and 
acclamations  whenever  they  appeared. 

Their  nobles  vied  mth  each  other  in  the  luxury  of  their 
attire,  their  prancing  steeds,  and  splendid  retinues;  and  the 
haughty  dames  of  the  court  appeared  in  a  blaze  of  jewels. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  pageantry,  the  beautiful,  but  afflicted 
Duchess  of  Lorraine  made  her  approach  to  the  throne.  She 
was  dressed  in  black,  and  closely  veiled ;  f om*  duennas  of  the 
most  staid  and  severe  aspect,  and  six  beautifid  demoiselles, 
formed  her  female  attendants.  She  was  guarded  by  sevei-al 
very  ancient,  withered,  and  gray  headed  cavaliers;  and  her 
train  was  borne  by  one  of  the  most  deformed  and  diminutive 
dwarfs  in  existence. 

Advancing  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  she  knelt  down,  and, 
throwing  up  her  veil,  revealed  a  countenance  so  beautifill  that 
half  the  courtiers  present  were  ready  to  renounce  wives  and 
mistresses,  and  devote  themselves  to  her  service;  but  when 
she  made  known  that  she  came  in  quest  of  champions  to 
defend  her  fame,  every  cavalier  pressed  forward  to  offer  His 
arm  and  sword,  without  inquiring  into  the  merits  of  the  case ; 
for  it  seemed  clear  that  so  beauteous  a  lady  could  have  done 
nothing  but  what  was  right ;  and  that,  at  any  rate,  she  ought 
to  be  championed  hi  folio  whig  the  bent  of  her  humors,  whether 
right  or  wrong. 

Encouraged  by  such  gallant  zeal,  the  duchess  suffered  her- 
self to  be  raised  from  the  ground,  and  related  the  whole  story 
of  her  distress.  When  she  concluded,  the  king  remained  for 
some  time  silent,  charmed  by  the  music  of  her  voice.  At 
length:  "As  I  hope  for  salvation,  most  beautiful  duchess," 
said  he,  ' '  were  I  not  a  sovereign  king,  and  bound  in  duty  to 
my  Idngdom,  I  myself  would  put  lance  in  rest  to  vindicate 
your  cause ;  as  it  is,  I  here  give  full  permission  to  my  knights, 
and  promise  lists  and  a  fair  field,  and  that  the  contest  shall 


THE  WIDOW'S  OllBEAL. 


187 


take  place  before  the  walls  of  Toledo,  in  presence  of  my 
assembled  court." 

As  soon  as  the  pleasure  of  the  king  was  knoAvn,  tliere  was  a 
strife  among  the  cavaliers  present,  for  the  honor  of  the  contest. 
It  was  decided  by  lot,  and  the  successful  candidates  were 
objects  of  great  envy,  for  every  one  was  ambitious  of  finding 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful  v/idow. 

Missives  were  sent,  summoning  the  nephew  and  his  two 
uncles  to  Toledo,  to  maintain  their  accusation,  and  a  day  was 
appointed  for  the  combat.  When  the  day  arrived,  all  Toledo 
was  in  commotion  at  an  early  hour.  The  Hsts  had  been  pre- 
pared in  the  usual  place,  just  without  the  walls,  at  the  foot  of 
the  rugged  rocks  on  which  the  city  is  built,  and  on  that  beauti- 
ful meadow  along  the  Tagus,  known  by  the  name  of  the  king's 
garden.  The  populace  had  already  assembled,  each  one  eager 
to  secure  a  favorable  place ;  the  balconies  were  filled  with  the 
ladies  of  the  court,  clad  in  their  richest  attire,  and  bands  of 
youthful  knights,  splendidly  armed  and  decorated  with  their 
ladies'  devices,  were  managing  their  superbly  caparisoned 
steeds  about  Jhe  field.  The  king  at  length  came  forth  in  state, 
accompanied  by  the  queen  Exilona.  They  took  their  seats  in 
a  raised  balcony,  under  a  canopy  of  rich  damask;  and,  at 
sight  of  them,  the  people  rent  the  air  with  acclamations. 

The  nephew  and  his  uncles  now  rode  into  the  field,  armed 
cap-a-pie,  and  followed  by  a  train  of  cavaliers  of  their  own 
roystering  cast,  great  swearers  and  carousers,  arrant  swash- 
bucklers, with  clanking  armor  and  jingling  spurs.  When  the 
people  of  Toledo  beheld  the  vaunting  and  discourteous  appear- 
ance of  these  knights,  they  were  more  anxious  than  ever  for 
the  success  of  the  gentle  duchess;  but,  at  the  same  time,  the 
sturdy  and  stalwart  frames  of  these  warriors,  showed  that 
whoever  won  the  victory  from  them,  must  do  it  at  the  cost  of 
many  a  bitter  blow. 

As  the  nephew  and  his  riotous  crew  rode  in  at  one  side  of  the 
field,  the  fair  widow  appeared  at  the  other,  with  her  suite  of 
gi'ave  grayheaded  courtiers,  her  ancient  duennas  and  dainty 
demoiselles,  and  the  little  dwarf  toiling  along  under  the  weight 
of  her  train.  Every  one  made  way  for  her  as  she  passed,  and 
blessed  her  beautiful  face,  and  prayed  for  success  to  her  cause. 
She  took  her  seat  in  a  lower  balcony,  not  far  from  the  sover- 
eign ;  and  her  pale  face,  set  olf  by  her  mourning  weeds,  was  as 
the  moon  shining  forth  from  among  the  clouds  of  night. 

The  tmmpets  sounded  for  the  combat.   The  warrioi^  wero 


188 


TllIC  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


just  entering  the  lists,  when  a  sti'anger  knight,  armed  in  pano- 
ply, and  followed  by  two  pages  and  an  esquire,  came  galloping 
into  the  field,  and,  riding  up  to  the  royal  balcony,  clamied  the 
combat  as  a  matter  of  right. 

"In  me,"  cried  he,  "behold  the  cavalier  who  had  the  happi- 
ness to  rescue  the  beautiful  duchess  from  the  peril  of  the  forest, 
and  the  misfortune  to  bring  on  her  this  grievous  calumny.  It 
was  but  recently,  in  the  course  of  my  errantry,  that  tidings  of 
her  wrongs  have  reached  my  ears,  and  I  have  urged  hither  at 
all  speed,  to  stand  forth  in  her  vindication." 

No  sooner  did  the  duchess  hear  the  accents  of  the  knight 
than  she  recognized  his  voice,  and  joined  her  prayers  with  liis 
that  he  might  enter  the  lists.  The  difficulty  was,  to  determine 
which  of  the  three  champions  already  appointed  should  yield 
his  place,  each  insisting  on  the  honor  of  the  combat.  The 
stranger  knight  would  have  settled  the  point,  by  taking  the 
whole  contest  upon  himself;  but  this  the  other  knights  would 
not  permit.  It  was  at  length  determined,  as  before,  by  lot,  and 
the  cavalier  who  lost  the  chance  retired  murmuring  and  dis- 
consolate. 

The  trumpets  again  sounded — the  hsts  were  opened.  The 
arrogant  nephew  and  his  two  drawcansir  uncles  appeared  so 
sompletely  cased  in  steel,  that  they  and  their  steeds  were  like 
moving  masses  of  iron.  When  they  understood  the  stranger 
knight  to  be  the  same  that  had  rescued  the  duchess  from  her 
peril,  they  greeted  him  with  the  most  boisterous  derision : 

*'0  ho!  sir  Knight  of  the  Dragon,"  said  they,  "you  who  pre- 
tend to  champion  fair  widows  in  the  dark,  come  on,  and  vindi- 
cate your  deeds  of  darkness  in  the  open  day." 

The  only  reply  of  the  cavalier  was  to  put  lance  in  rest,  and 
brace  himself  for  the  encounter.  Needless  is  it  to  relate  the 
particulars  of  a  battle,  which  was  lil^e  so  many  hundred  com- 
bats that  have  been  said  and  sung  in  prose  and  verse.  Who  is 
there  but  musb  have  foreseen  the  event  of  a  contest,  where 
Heaven  had  to  decide  on  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the  mc::t 
beautiful  and  iimnaculate  of  widows? 

The  sagacious  reader,  deeply  read  in  this  kind  of  judicial 
combats,  can  imagine  the  encounter  of  the  graceless  nephew 
aiid  the  stranger  knight.  He  sees  their  concussion,  man  to 
man,  and  horse  to  horse,  in  mid  career,  and  sir  Graceless 
hurled  to  the  ground,  and  slain.  He  will  not  wonder  that  the 
assailants  of  the  brawny  uncles  were  less  successful  in  their 
rude  encounter;  but  he  wiU  pictm-e  to  himself  the  stout 


THE  CllEOLK  VILLAGE. 


189 


stranger  spurring  to  their  rescue,  in  tiie  very  critical  moment ; 
lie  will  see  him  transfixing  one  with  his  lance,  and  cleaving 
tiie  other  to  the  chine  with  a  back  stroke  of  his  sword,  thus 
leaving  the  trio  of  accusers  dead  upon  the  field,  and  establish- 
ing the  immacidate  fidelity  of  the  duchess,  and  her  title  to 
the  dukedom,  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

The  air  rang  with  acclamations;  nothing  was  heard  but 
T -raises  of  the  beauty  and  virtue- of  the  duchess,  and  of  th.e 
v.rowess  of  the  stranger  knight;  but  the  public  joy  was  still 
more  increased  when  the  champion  raised  his  visor,  and  re- 
vealed the  countenance  ol  one  of  the  bravest  cavahers  of  Spain, 
renowned  for  liis  gallantry  in  the  service  of  the  sex,  and  who 
had  been  round  the  world  in  quest  of  smiilar  adventures. 

That  worthy  knight,  however,  was  severely  wounded,  and 
remained  for  a  long  time  ill  of  his  wounds.  The  lovely 
duchess,  grateful  for  having  twice  owed  her  protection  to  his 
arm,  attended  him  daily  during  his  illness;  and  finally  re- 
warded his  gallantry  with  her  hand. 

The  king  would  fain  have  had  the  knight  establish  his  title 
to  such  high  advancement  by  farther  deeds  of  arms ;  but  liis 
courtiers  declared  that  he  already  merited  the  lady,  by  thu-s 
vindicating  her  fame  and  fortune  in  a  deadly  combat  to  ou- 
trance;  and  the  lady  herself  hinted  that  she  was  perfectly 
satisfied  of  his  prowess  in  arms,  from  the  proofs  she  had  re- 
ceived in  his  achievement  in  the  forest. 

Their  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  great  magnificence. 
The  present  husband  of  the  duchess  did  not  pray  and  fast  like 
his  predecessor,  Philibert  the  wife-ridden ;  yet  he  found  greater 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  Heaven,  for  their  union  was  blessed  with 
a  numerous  progeny — the  daughters  chaste  and  beauteous  as 
their  mother ;  the  sons  stout  and  valiant  as  their  sire,  and  re- 
nowned, like  him,  for  relieving  disconsolate  damsels  and  deso- 
lated "v\ddows. 


THE  CREOLE  VILLAGIE: 

A  SKETCH   FROM  A  STEAMBOAT. 

First  Published  in  1837. 

In^  travelling  about  our  motley  country,  I  am  often  reminded 
of  Ariosto's  account  of  the  moon,  in  which  the  good  paladin 


190 


TEE  CRAYON  PAPEIiS. 


Astolpho  found  everything  garnered  up  that  had  been  lost  on 
earth.  So  I  am  apt  to  hnagine,  that  many  things  lost  in  the 
old  world,  are  treasured  up  in  the  new ;  having  been  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation,  since  the  early  days  of 
the  colonies.  A  European  antiquary,  therefore,  curious  in  his 
researches  after  the  ancient  and  almost  obliterated  customs 
and  usages  of  his  country,  would  do  v/ell  to  put  himself  upon 
the  track  of  some  early  band  of  emigrants,  follow  them  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  rummage  among  their  descendants  on  our 
shores. 

In  the  phraseology  of  New  England  might  be  found  many  an 
old  English  provincial  phra.se,  long  since  obsolete  in  the  parent 
country;  with  some  quaint  relics  of  the  roundheads;  while 
Virginia  cherishes  peculiarities  characteristic  of  the  days  of 
Elizabeth  and  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh. 

In  the  same  way  the  sturdy  yeomanry  of  New  Jersey  and 
Pennsylvania  keep  up  many  usages  fading  away  in  ancient 
Germany;  while  many  an  honest,  broad-bottomed  custom, 
nearly  extinct  in  venerable  Holland,  may  be  found  flourishing 
in  pristine  vigor  and  luxuriance  in  Dutch  villages,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Mohawk  and  the  Hudson. 

In  no  part  of  our  country,  however,  are  the  customs  and 
peculiarities,  imported  from  the  old  world  by  the  earlier 
settlers,  kept  up  with  more  fidelity  than  in  the  little,  poverty- 
stricken  villages  of  Spanish  and  French  origin,  which  border 
the  rivers  of  ancient  Louisiana.  Their  population  is  generally 
made  up  of  the  descendants  of  those  nations,  married  and 
interwoven  together,  and  occasionally  crossed  with  a  slight 
dash  of  the  Indian,  The  French  character,  however,  floats  on 
top,  as,  from  its  buoyant  quahties,  it  is  sure  to  do,  whenever  it 
forms  a  particle,  however  small,  of  an  intermixture. 

In  these  serene  and  dilapidated  villages,  art  and  nature  stand 
still,  and  the  world  forgets  to  turn  round.  The  revolutions 
fchat  distract  other  parts  of  this  mutable  planet,  reach  not  here, 
or  pass  over  without  leaving  any  trace.  The  fortunate  inhabi- 
tants have  none  of  that  public  spirit  which  extends  its  cares 
beyond  its  horizon,  and  imports  trouble  and  perplexity  from 
all  quarters  in  ncAvspapers.  In  fact,  newspapers  are  almost 
unlvinown  in  these  villages,  and  as  French  is  the  current  lan- 
guage, the  inhabitants  have  little  community  of  opinion  with 
their  republican  neighbors.  They  retain,  therefore,  their  old 
habits  of  passive  obedience  to  the  decrees  of  government,  no 
though  they  stiU  lived  under  the  absolute  sway  of  colonial 


TllK  CllKOLb:  VILLAGE. 


191 


commandants,  instead  of  being  part  and  parcel  of  the  sovereign 
people,  and  having  a  voice  in  public  legislation. 

A  few  aged  men,  who  have  grown  gray  on  their  hereditary 
acres,  and  are  of  the  good  old  colonial  stock,  exert  a  pa.triar- 
chal  sway  in  all  matters  of  public  and  private  import ;  their 
opinions  are  considered  oracular,  and  their  word  is  law. 

The  inhabitants,  moreover,  have  none  of  that  eagerness  for 
gain  and  rage  for  improvement  which  keep  our  people  continu- 
ally on  the  move,  and  our  country  towns  incessantly  in  a  state 
of  transition.  There  the  magic  phrases,  "town  lots,"  "water 
privileges,"  "railroads,"  and  other  comprehensive  and  soul- 
stirring  words  from  the  speculator's  vocabulary,  are  never 
heard.  The  residents  dAvell  in  the  houses  built  by  their  fore- 
fathers, without  thinking  of  enlarging  or  modernizing  them, 
or  pulling  them  down  and  turning  them  into  granite  stores. 
The  trees,  under  which  they  have  been  born  and  have  played 
in  infancy,  flourish  undisturbed;  though,  by  cutting  them 
down,  they  might  open  new  streets,  and  put  money  in  their 
pocl^ets.  In  a  word,  the  almighty  dollar,  that  great  object  of 
universal  devotion  throughout  our  land,  seems  to  have  no 
genuine  devotees  in  these  peculiar  villages ;  and  unless  some  of 
its  missionaries  penetrate  there,  and  erect  banking  houses  and 
other  pious  shrines,  there  is  no  knowing  how  long  the  inliabi- 
taiits  may  remain  in  their  present  state  of  contented  poverty. 

In  descending  one  of  our  great  Western  rivers  in  a  steam- 
boat, 1  met  with  two  worthies  from  one  of  these  villages,  who 
had  been  on  a  distant  excursion,  the  longest  they  had  ever 
made,  as  they  seldom  ventured  far  from  home.  One  was  the 
great  man,  or  Grand  Seigneur,  of  the  village ;  not  that  he  en- 
joyed any  legal  privileges  or  power  there,  everything  of  the 
kind  having  been  done  away  when  the  province  was  ceded  by 
France  to  the  United  States.  His  sway  over  his  neighbors  was 
merely  one  of  custom  and  convention,  out  of  deference  to  his 
family.  Beside,  he  was  worth  full  fifty  thousand  dollars,  an 
amount  almost  equal,  in  the  imaginations  of  the  villagers,  to 
the  treasures  of  King  Solomon. 

This  very  substantial  old  gentleman,  though  of  the  fourth  or 
fifth  generation  in  this  country,  retained  the  true  Gallic  fea- 
ture and  deportment,  and  reminded  me  of  one  of  those  provin- 
cial potentates  that  are  to  be  met  with  in  the  remote  parts  of 
France.  He  was  of  a  large  frame,  a  ginger-bread  complexion, 
strong  features,  eyes  that  stood  out  hke  glass  knobs,  and  a 
prominent  nose,  which  he  frequently  regaled  fnjm  a  oold 


192 


THE  CRAYON  FAPKr^^ 


snuff-box,  and  occasionally  blew,  with  a  colored  handker- 
chief, until  it  sounded  like  a  trumpet. 

He  was  attended  by  an  old  negro,  as  black  as  ebony,  with  a 
huge  mouth,  in  a  continual  grin ;  evidently  a  privileged  and 
favorite  servant,  who  had  grown  up  and  grown  old  vnth  liim. 
He  was  dressed  in  Creole  style — with  wliite  jacket  and  trou- 
sers, a  stiff  shirt  collar,  tliat  threatened  to  cut  off  his  ears,  a 
bright  Madras  handkerchief  tied  round  his  head,  and  large 
gold  ear-rings.  He  was  the  politest  negro  I  met  with  in  a 
Western  tour ;  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for,  excepting 
the  Indians,  the  negroes  are  the  most  gentlemanlike  person- 
ages to  be  met  with  in  those  parts.  It  is  true,  they  differ  from 
the  Indians  in  being  a  httle  extra  polite  and  complimentary. 
He  was  also  one  of  the  merriest ;  and  here,  too,  the  negroes, 
however  we  may  deplore  their  unhappy  condition,  have  the 
advantage  of  their  masters.  The  whites  are,  in  general,  too 
free  and  prosperous  to  be  merry.  The  cares  of  maintaining 
their  rights  and  liberties,  adding  to  their  wealth,  and  making 
presidents,  engi'oss  aU  their  thoughts,  and  dry  up  aU  the  mois- 
ture of  their  souls.  If  you  hear  a  broad,  hearty,  devil-may- 
care  laugh,  be  assured  it  is  a  negro's. 

Beside  this  African  domestic,  the  seigneur  of  the  village  had 
another  no  less  cherished  and  privileged  attendant.  This  was 
a  huge  dog,  of  the  mastiff  breed,  with  a  deep,  hanging  mouth, 
and  a  look  of  surly  gi^avity.  He  walked  about  the  cabin  with 
the  air  of  a  dog  perfectly  at  home,  and  who  had  paid  for  his 
passage.  At  dinner  time  he  took  his  seat  beside  his  master, 
giving  him  a  glance  now  and  then  out  of  a  corner  of  his  eye, 
which  bespoke  perfect  confidence  that  he  woidd  not  be  forgot- 
ten. Nor  was  he — every  now  and  then  a  huge  morsel  would 
be  thrown  to  him,  peradventure  the  half -picked  leg  of  a  fowl, 
which  he  would  receive  with  a  snap  like  the  springing  of  a 
steel-trap  -  one  gulp,  and  all  was  down ;  and  a  glance  of  the  ey  e 
(,old  his  master  that  he  was  ready  for  another  consignment. 

The  other  village  worthy,  travelling  in  company  with  the 
seigneur,  was  of  a  totally  different  stamp.  Small,  thin,  and 
weazen-faced,  as  Frenchmen  are  apt  to  be  represented  in  cari- 
cature, with  a  bright,  squirrel-like  eye,  and  a  gold  rmg  in  his 
car.  His  dress  was  flunsy,  and  sat  loosely  on  his  frame,  and 
he  had  altogether  the  look  of  one  with  but  little  coin  in  his 
pocket.  Yet,  though  one  of  the  poorest,  I  was  assured  he  was 
one  of  the  merriest  and  most  popular  personages  in  his  native 
village. 


THE  CREOLE  VILLAGE. 


193 


Compere  Martin,  as  he  was  commonly  called,  was  the  facto- 
tum of  the  place — sportsman,  school-master,  and  land-sur- 
veyor. He  could  sing,  dance,  and,  above  all,  play  on  the  fid- 
dle, an  invaluable  accomplishment  in  an  old  French  Creole 
village,  for  the  inliabitants  have  a  hereditary  love  for  balls 
and  fetes ;  if  they  work  but  little,  they  dance  a  great  deal,  and 
a  fiddle  is  the  joy  of  their  heart. 

What  had  sent  Compere  Martin  travelling  vf  ith  the  Grand 
Seigneur  I  could  not  learn ;  he  evidently  looked  up  to  him  with 
great  deference,  and  was  assiduous  in  rendering  him  petty  at 
tentions ;  from  which  I  concluded  that  he  lived  at  home  upon 
the  crumbs  which  fell  from  his  table.  He  was  gayest  when 
out  of  his  sight ;  and  had  his  song  and  his  joke  when  forward, 
among  the  deck  passengers ;  but  altogether  Compere  Martin 
was  out  of  his  element  on  board  of  a  steamboat.  He  v/as  quite 
another  being,  I  am  told,  when  at  home  in  his  own  village. 

Like  his  opulent  feliovz-traveller,  he  too  had  his  canine  fol- 
lower and  reta,iner— and  one  suited  to  his  different  fortunes — 
one  of  the  civil  est,  most  unoffending  little  dogs  in  the  world. 
Unlike  the  lordly  mastiff,  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  no  right 
on  board  of  the  steamboat ;  if  you  did  but  look  hard  at  him,  he 
would  throw  himself  upon  his  back,  and  lift  up  his  legs,  as  if 
imploring  mercy. 

At  table  he  took  his  seat  a  Mttle  distance  from  his  master; 
not  with  the  bluff,  confident  air  of  the  mastiff,  but  quietly  and 
diffidently,  his  head  on  one  side,  with  one  ear  dubiously 
slouched,  the  other  hopefully  cocked  up;  his  under  teeth 
projecting  beyond  his  black  nose,  and  his  eye  wistfully  fol- 
lowing each  morsel  that  went  in«to  his  master's  mouth. 

If  Compere  Martin  now  and  then  should  venture  to  abstract 
a  morsel  from  his  plate  to  give  to  his  humble  companion,  it 
was  edifying  to  see  with  what  diffidence  the  exemplary  little 
animal  would  take  hold  of  it,  with  the  very  tip  of  his  teeth,  as 
if  he  would  almost  rather  not,  or  was  fearful  of  taking  too 
great  a  liberty.  And  then  with  what  decorum  would  he  eat 
it !  How  many  efforts  woidd  he  make  in  swallowing  it,  as  if 
it  stuck  in  his  throat ;  with  what  daintiness  would  he  hck  his 
lips ;  and  then  Avith  what  an  air  of  thankf idness  would  he  re- 
sume his  seat,  ^vith  liis  teeth  once  more  projecting  beyond  his 
nose,  and  an  eye  of  humble  expectation  fixed  upon  his  master. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  steamboat  stopped  at 
the  village  which  was  the  residence  of  these  worthies.  It  stood 
on.  the  high  bank  of  the  river,  and  bore  traces  of  having  been  a 


194 


THE  CllAYON  PAPERS. 


frontier  trading  post.  There  were  the  remains  of  stockades 
that  once  protected  it  from  the  Indians,  and  the  houses  were 
in  the  ancient  Spanish  and  French  colonial  taste,  the  place 
having  been  successively  under  the  domination  of  both  those 
nations  prior  to  the  cession  of  Louisiana  to  the  United  States. 

The  arrival  of  the  seigneur  of  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and 
his  humble  companion,  Compere  Martin,  had  evidently  been 
looked  forward  to  as  an  event  in  the  village.  Numbers  of 
men,  women,  and  children,  white,  yellow,  and  black,  were 
collected  on  the  river  bank ;  most  of  them  clad  in  old-fash- 
ioned French  garments,  and  their  heads  decorated  with  col- 
ored handkerchiefs,  or  white  night-caps.  The  moment  the 
steamboat  came  within  sight  and  hearing,  there  was  a  waving 
of  handkerchiefs,  and  a  screaming  and  bawling  of  salutations, 
and  felicitations,  that  baffle  all  description. 

The  old  gentleman  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  was  received  by 
a  train  of  relatives,  and  friends,  and  children,  and  grandchil- 
dren, whom  he  kissed  on  each  cheek,  and  who  formed  a  pro- 
cession in  his  rear,  with  a  legion  of  domestics,  of  all  ages,  fol- 
lowing him  to  a  large,  old-fashioned  French  house,  that  domi- 
neered over  the  village. 

His  black  valet-de-chambre,  in  white  jacket  and  trousers,  and 
gold  ear-rings,  was  met  on  the  shore  by  a  boon,  though  rustic 
companion,  a  tall  negro  fellow,  with  a  long,  good-humored  face, 
and  the  profile  of  a  horse,  v/hich  stood  out  from  beneath  a  nar- 
row-rimmed straw  hat,  stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head.  The  ex- 
plosions of  laughter  of  these  two  varlets,  on  meeting  and  ex- 
changing compliments,  were  enough  to  electrify  the  country 
round. 

The  most  hearty  reception,  however,  was  that  given  to  Com- 
pere Martin.  Everybody,  young  and  old,  hailed  him  before 
he  got  to  land.  Everybody  had  a  joke  for  Compere  Martin, 
and  Compere  Martin  had  a  joke  for  everybody.  Even  his  little 
dog  appeared,  to  partake  of  his  popularity,  and  to  be  caressed 
by  every  hand.  Indeed,  he  was  quite  a  different  animal  the 
moment  he  touched  the  land.  Here  he  was  at  home;  here 
he  was  of  consequence.  He  barked,  he  leaped,  he  frisked  about 
his  old  friends,  and  then  would  skim  round  the  place  in  a  wide 
circle,  as  if  mad. 

I  traced  Compere  Martin  and  his  httle  dog  to  their  home.  It 
was  an  old  ruinous  Spanish  house,  of  large  dimensions,  with 
verandas  overshadowed  by  ancient  elms.  The  house  had  pro- 
bably been  the  residence,  in  old  times,  of  the  Spanish  com 


THE  CimOLE  VILLAGE. 


105 


rrandant.  In  one  wing  of  this  crazy,  hut  aristocratical  abode, 
was  nestled  the  family  of  my  fellow-traveller;  for  poor  devils 
are  apt  to  he  magnificently  clad  and  lodged,  in  the  cast-ofE 
clothes  and  abandoned  palaces  of  the  great  and  wealthy. 

The  arrival  of  Compere  Martin  was  welcomed  by  a  legion  of 
women,  children,  and  mongrel  curs ;  and,  as  poverty  and  gay - 
ety  generally  go  hand  in  hand  among  the  French  and  theii^ 
deg(3e]idants,  the  crazy  mansion  soon  resounded  with  loud  gossip 
and  light-hearted  laughter. 

As  tlie  steamboat  paused  a  short  time  at  the  village,  I  took 
occasion  to  stroll  about  ihQ  place.  Most  of  the  houses  were  in 
the  French  taste,  with  casements  and  rickety  verandas,  but 
most  of  them  in  flimsy  and  ruinous  condition.  All  the  wagons, 
ploughs,  and  other  utensils  about  the  place  were  of  ancient  and 
inconvenient  Gallic  construction,  such  as  had  been  brought 
from  France  in  the  primitive  days  of  the  colony.  The  very 
looks  of  the  people  reminded  me  of  the  villa^ges  of  France. 

From  one  of  the  houses  came  the  hum  of  a  spinnmg  wheel, 
accompanied  by  a  scrap  of  an  old  French  chanson,  which  I 
have  heard  many  a  time  among  the  peasantry  of  Languedoc, 
doubtless  a  traditional  song,  brought  over  by  the  first  French 
emigrants,  and  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation. 

Half  a  dozen  young  lasses  emerged  from  the  adjacent  dwell- 
ings, reminding  me,  by  their  light  step  and  gay  costume,  of 
genes  in  ancient  France,  where  taste  in  dress  comes  natural  to 
every  class  of  females.  The  trim  bodice  and  colored  petticoat, 
and  little  apron,  with  its  pockets  to  receive  the  hands  when  in 
an  attitude  for  conversation ;  the  colored  kerchief  wound  taste- 
fully round  the  head,  with  a  coquettish  knot  perking  above  one 
ear ;  and  the  neat  slipper  and  tight  drawn  stocking,  with  its 
braid  of  narrow  ribbon  embracing  the  ankle  where  it  peeps 
from  its  mysterious  curtain.  It  is  from  this  ambush  that  Cupid 
sends  his  most  inciting  arrows. 

While  I  was  musing  upon  the  recollections  thus  accidentally 
summoned  up,  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  fiddle  from  the  mansion 
of  Compere  Martin,  the  signal,  no  doubt,  for  a  joyous  gather- 
ing. I  was  disposed  to  turn  my  steps  thither,  ana  witness  the 
festivities  of  one  of  the  very  few  villages  I  had  met  with  in 
my  wide  tour,  that  was  yet  poor  enough  to  be  merry ;  but  the 
beU  of  the  steamboat  siunmoned  me  to  re-embark. 

As  we  swept  away  from  the  shore,  I  cast  back  a  wistful  eye 
upon  the  moss-grown  roofs  and  ancient  ehns  of  the  village, 
and  prayed  that  the  inhabitants  might  long  retain  their  happy 


196 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


ignorance,  their  absence  of  all  enterprise  and  improvement, 
their  respect  for  the  fiddle,  and  their  contempt  for  the  almighty 
dollar.*  I  fear,  however,  my  prayer  is  doomed  to  be  of  no 
avail.  In  a  little  while  the  steamboat  vv^hirled  me  to  an 
American  town,  just  springing  into  bustling  and  prosperous 
existence. 

The  surrounding  forest  had  been  laid  out  in  town  lots ;  frames 
of  wooden  buildings  were  rising  from  among  stumps  and 
burnt  trees.  The  place  already  boasted  a  court-house,  a  jail, 
and  two  banks,  all  built  of  pine  boards,  on  the  model  of  Gre- 
cian temples.  There  wxre  rival  hotels,  rival  churches,  and 
rival  newspapers ;  together  with  the  usual  number  of  judges, 
and  generals,  and  governors;  not  to  speak  of  doctors  by  the 
dozen,  and  lawyers  by  the  score. 

The  place,  I  was  told,  was  m  an  astonishing  career  of  im- 
provement, with  a  canal  and  two  railroads  in  embryo.  Lots 
doubled  in  price  every  week ;  every  body  was  speculating  in 
land;  every  body  was  rich;  and  every  body  was  growing 
richer.  The  community,  however,  was  torn  to  pieces  by  new 
doctrines  in  religion  and  in  pohtical  economy;  there  were 
camp  meetings,  and  agrarian  meetings;  and  an  election  was 
at  hand,  which,  it  was  expected,  would  throw  the  whole  coim- 
try  into  a  paroxysm. 

Alas !  with  such  an  enterprising  neighbour,  what  is  to  become 
of  the  poor  little  Creole  village ! 


A  CONTENTED  MAN. 

In  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  there  is  a  sunny  comer  under 
the  wall  of  a  terrace  which  fronts  the  south.  Along  the  wall  is  a 
ransce  of  benches  commanding  a  view  of  the  walks  and  avenues 
of  the  garden.  _  This  genial  nook  is  a  place  of  great  resort  in 
the  latter  part  of  autumn,  and  in  fine  days  in  winter,  as  it 
seems  to  retain  the  flavor  of  departed  summer.  On  a  calm, 
bright  mormng  it  is  quite  alive  with  nursery-maids  and  their 


*  This  phrase,  used  for  tlie  first  time  in  this  sketch,  has  since  passed  into  current 
circulation,  and  by  some  has  been  questioned  as  savoring  of  irreverence.   Tho  j 
author,  therefore,  owes  ic  to  his  orthodoxy  to  declare  that  no  irreverence  was  ' 
Intended  even  to  the  dollar  itself;  which  he  is  aware  is  daily  becoming  »nore  and 
more  an  object  of  worship. 


A  tONTEiSTED  3IAN. 


197 


playful  little  charges.  Hithor  also  resort  a  number  of  ancienti 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  who,  with  the  laudable  thrift  in  small 
plpasures  and  small  expenses  for  which  the  French  are  to  be 
noted,  come  here  to  enjoy  sunshine  and  save  firewood.  Here 
may  often  be  seen  some  cavalier  of  the  old  school,  when  the 
sunbeams  have  warmed  his  blood  into  something  like  a  glow, 
fluttering  about  like  a  frost-bitten  moth  before  the  fire,  put- 
ting forth  a  feeble  show  of  gallantry  among  the  antiquated 
(lames,  and  now  and  then  eyeing  the  buxom  nursery-maids 
with  what  might  almost  be  mistaken  for  an  air  of  libertinism. 

Among  the  habitual  frequenters  of  this  place  I  had  often 
remarked  an  old  gentleman,  whose  dress  was  decidedly  anti- 
revolutional.  He  wore  the  three-cornered  cocked  hat  of  the 
uncien  regime ;  his  hair  was  frizzed  over  each  ear  into  ailes 
de  pigeon,  a  style  strongly  savouring  of  Bourbonism ;  and  a 
queue  stuck  out  behind,  the  loyalty  of  which  was  not  to  be 
disputed.  His  dress,  though  ancient,  had  an  air  of  decayed 
gentility,  and  I  observed  that  he  took  his  snuff  out  of  an 
elegant  though  old-fashioned  gold  box.  He  appeared  to  be  the 
most  popular  man  on  the  walk.  He  had  a  compliment  for 
every  old  lady,  ho  kissed  every  child,  and  he  patted  every 
little  dog  on  the  head ;  ior  children  and  little  dogs  are  very 
important  members  of  society  in  France.  I  must  observe, 
however,  that  he  seldom  kissed  a  child  without,  at  the  same 
time,  pinching  the  nursery-maid's  cheek ;  a  Frenchman  of  the 
old  school  never  forgets  his  devoirs  to  the  sex. 

I  had  taken  a  liking  to  this  old  gentleman.  There  was  an 
habitual  expression  of  benevolence  in  his  face  which  I  have 
very  frequently  remarked  in  these  rehcs  of  the  politer  days  of 
France.  The  constant  interchange  of  those  thousand  little 
courtesies  which  imperceptibly  sweeten  life  have  a  happy 
effect  upon  the  features,  and  spread  a  mellow  evening  charm 
over  the  wrinkles  of  old  age. 

Where  there  is  a  favorable  predisx-)Osition  one  soon  fonns  a 
kind  of  tacit  intunacy  by  often  meeting  on  the  same  walks. 
Once  or  twice  I  accommodated  him  with  a  bench,  after  v/hich 
we  touched  hats  on  passing  eoxih  other ;  at  length  we  got  so  far 
as  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff  together  out  of  his  box,  which  is 
equivalent  to  eating  salt  together  in  the  East ;  from  that  time 
our  acquaintance  was  estabhshed. 

I  now  became  his  frequent  companion  in  his  morning  prome- 
nades, and  derived  much  amusement  from  his  good-humored 
remarks  on  men  and  manners.    One  morning,  as  we  were 


198 


THE  CRAYON  PAPERS. 


Bt rolling  through  an  alley  of  the  Tuileries,  with  the  autumnal 
breeze  whirling  the  yellow  leaves  about  our  path,  my  com- 
panion fell  into  a  peciiUarly  communicative  vein,  and  gave  me 
several  particulars  of  his  history.  He  had  once  been  wealthy, 
and  possessed  of  a  fine  estate  in  the  country  and  a  noble  hotel 
in  Paris;  but  the  revolution,  which  effected  so  many  disas- 
trous changes,  stripped  him  of  everything.  He  was  secretly 
denounced  by  his  own  steAvard  during  a  sanguinary  period  of 
the  revolution,  and  a  number  of  the  bloodhounds  of  the  Con- 
vention were  sent  to  arrest  him.  He  received  private  intelli- 
gence of  their  approach  in  time  to  effect  his  escape.  He  landed 
in  England  A\dthout  money  or  friends,  but  considered  himself 
singularly  fortunate  in  having  his  head  upon  his  shoulders; 
several  of  liis  neighbors  having  been  guiUotined  as  a  punish- 
ment for  being  rich. 

When  he  reached  London  he  had  but  a  louis  in  his  pocket, 
and  no  prospect  of  getting  another.  R  o  ate  a  solitary  dinner 
of  beefsteak,  and  was  almost  poisoned  by  port  wine,  which 
from  its  color  he  had  mistaken  for  claret.  The  dingy  look  of 
the  chop-house,  and  of  the  little  mahogany- colored  box  in 
which  he  ate  his  dinner,  contrasted  sadly  with  the  gay  saloons 
of  Paris.  Everything  looked  gloomy  and  disheartening.  Pov- 
erty stared  him  in  the  face ;  he  turned  over  the  few  shillings 
he  had  of  change ;  did  not  know  what  was  to  become  of  him ; 
and — went  to  the  theatre ! 

He  took  his  seat  in  the  pit,  listened  attentively  to  a  tragedy 
of  which  he  did  not  understand  a  word,  and  which  seemed 
made  up  of  fighting,  and  stabbing,  and  scene-shifting,  and 
began  to  feel  his  spirits  sinking  within  him ;  when,  casting  liis 
eyes  into  the  orchestra,  what  was  his  surprise  to  recognize  an 
old  friend  and  neighbor  in  the  very  act  of  extorting  music 
from  a  huf:e  violoncello. 

As  soon  as  the  evening's  performance  was  over  he  tapped  his 
friend  on  the  shoulder ;  they  kissed  each  other  on  each  cheek, 
and  the  musician  took  him  home,  and  shra-ed  his  lodgings 
with  him.  He  had  learned  music  as  an  accomphshment  by 
his  friend's  advice  he  now  turned  to  it  as  a  means  of  support. 
He  procured  a  viohn,  offered  himself  for  the  orchestra,  was 
received,  and  again  considered  himself  one  of  the  most  fortu- 
nate men  upon  earth. 

Here  therefore  he  lived  for  many  years  during  the  ascen- 
dancy of  the  terrible  Napoleon.  He  found  several  emigrants 
living,  hke  himself,  by  the  exercise  of  their  talents.  They 


CONTENTED  MAN, 


1G9 


associated  together  talked  of  France  and  of  old  times,  and 
endeavored  to  keep  up  a  semblance  of  Parisian  life  in  the 
centre  of  liOndon. 

They  dined  at  a  miserable  cheap  French  restaurant  in  the 
neigliborhood  of  Leicester-square,  where  they  were  served  with 
a  caricature  of  French  cookery.  They  took  their  promenade 
in  St.  James's  Park,  and  endeavored  to  fancy  it  the  Tuileries; 
in  short,  they  made  shift  to  accommodate  themselves  to  every- 
tiling  but  an  Engiish  Sunday.  Indeed  the  old  gentleman 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say  against  the  Enghsh,  whom  he 
affirmed  to  be  braves  gens;  and  he  mingled  so  much  among 
them  that  at  the  end  of  twenty  years  he  could  speak  their 
language  almost  well  enough  to  be  imderstood. 

The  downfall  of  Napoleon  was  another  epoch  in  his  life.  He 
had  considered  himself  a  fortunate  man  to  make  his  escape 
penniless  out  of  France,  and  he  considered  himself  fortunate 
to  be  able  to  retm^n  penniless  into  it.  It  is  true  that  he  found 
his  Parisian  hotel  had  passed  through  several  hands  durmg 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  times,  so  as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
recoveiy;  but  then  he  had  been  noticed  benignantly  by  gov- 
ernmeiit,  and  had  a  pension  of  several  hundred  fiTmcs,  upon 
which,  with  careful  management,  he  lived  independently,  and, 
as  far  as  I  could  judge,  happily. 

As  his  once  splendid  hotel  was  now  occupied  as  a  hotel 
gaiiii,  he  hired  a  small  chamber  in  the  attic ;  it  was  but,  as  he 
said,  changing  his  bedroom  up  two  pair  of  stairs — he  was  still 
in  his  own  house.  His  room  was  decorated  with  pictures  of 
several  beauties  of  former  times,  with  whom  he  professed*  to 
have  been  on  favorable  terms:  among  them  was  a  favorite 
opera-dancer;  who  had  been  the  admiration  of  Paris  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  revolution.  She  had  been  a  protegee  of 
my  friend,  and  one  of  the  few  of  his  youthful  favorites  who 
had  survived  the  lapse  of  time  and  its  various  vicissitudes. 
They  had  rene^7ed  their  acquaintance,  and  she  now  and  then 
visited  him ;  but  the  beautiful  Psyche,  once  the  fashion  of  th3 
day  and  the  idol  of  the  parterre,  was  now  a  shrivelled,  little 
old  woman,  warped  in  the  back,  and  with  a  hooked  nose. 

The  old  gentleman  was  a  devout  attendant  upon  levees;  he 
was  most  zealous  in  his  loyalty,  and  could  not  speak  of  the 
royal  family  without  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  for  he  still  felt 
towards  them  as  his  companions  in  exUe.  As  to  his  poverty 
iie  made  ligiit  of  it,  and  indeed  had  a  good-humored  way  of 
consoling  Imnself  for  every  cross  and  privation.    If  he  had 


200 


THE  CRA  YO  N  PAPERS. 


lost  his  chateau  in  the  country,  he  had  half  a  dozen  royal 
palaces,  as  it  were,  at  his  coramand.  He  had  Versailles  and 
St.  Cloud  for  his  country  resorts,  and  the  shady  alleys  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  the  Luxembourg  for  his  town  recreation.  Thus 
all  his  promenades  and  relaxations  were  magnificent,  yet 
cost  nothing. 

When  I  w-alk  through  these  fine  gardens,  said  he,  I  have  only 
to  fancy  myself  the  owner  of  them,  and  they  are  mine.  All 
these  gay  crowds  are  my  visitors,  and  I  defy  the  grand  seignior 
himself  to  display  a  greater  variety  of  beauty.  Nay,  what  is 
better,  I  have  not  the  trouble  of  entertaining  them.  My  estate 
is  a  perfect  Sans  Souci,  where  every  one  does  as  he  pleases,  and 
no  one  troubles  the  owner.  All  Paris  is  my  theatre,  and  pre- 
sents me  with  a  continual  spectacle.  I  have  a  table  spread  for 
me  in  every  street,  and  thousands  of  waiters  ready  to  fly  at  my 
bidding.  When  my  servants  have  waited  upon  me  I  pay  them, 
discharge  them,  and  there's  an  end ;  I  have  no  fears  of  their 
wronging  or  pilfering  me  when  my  back  is  turned.  Upon  the 
whole,  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  smile  of  infinite  good- 
humor,  when  I  think  upon  the  various  risks  I  have  run,  and 
the  manner  in  which  I  have  escaped  them ;  when  I  recollect  all 
that  I  have  suffered,  and  consider  all  that  I  at  present  enjoy,  1 
cannot  but  look  upon  myself  as  a  man  of  singular  good  fortune. 

Such  was  the  brief  history  of  this  practical  philosopher,  and 
it  is  a  picture  of  many  a  Frenchman  ruined  by  the  revolution. 
The  French  appear  to  have  a  greater  facility  than  most  men  in 
accommodating  themselves  to  the  reverses  of  life,  and  of  ex- 
tracting honey  out  of  the  bitter  things  of  this  world.  The  first 
shock  of  calamity  is  apt  to  overwhelm  them,  but  when  it  is 
once  past,  their  natural  buoyancy  of  feehng  soon  brings  them 
to  the  surface.  This  may  be  called  the  residt  of  levity  of 
character,  but  it  answers  the  end  of  reconciling  us  to  misfor- 
tune, and  if  it  be  not  true  philosophy,  it  is  something  almost  as 
efiicacious.  Ever  since  I  have  heard  the  story  of  my  little 
Frenchman,  I  have  treasured  it  up  in  my  heart;  and  I  thank 
my  stars  I  have  at  length  found  what  I  had  long  considered  as 
not  to  be  found  on  earth— a  contented  man. 

P.S.  There  is  no  calculating  on  human  happiness.  Since 
witiog  the  foregoing,  the  law  of  mdemnity  has  been  passed, 
and  my  friend  restored  to  a  great  part  of  his  fortune.  I  was 
absent  from  Paris  at  the  time,  but  on  my  return  hastened  to 
congratulate  him.    I  found  him  magnificently  lodged  on  the 


A  CO TENTED  MAN. 


201 


first  floor  of  his  hotel.  I  was  ushered,  by  a  servant  in  livery, 
through  splendid  saloons,  to  a  cabinet  riclily  furnished,  where 
I  found  my  little  Frenchman  reclining  on  a  couch.  He  received 
me  with  his  usual  cordiality ;  but  I  saw  the  gayety  and  benevo- 
lence of  his  countenance  had  lied ;  he  had  an  eye  full  of  care 
and  anxiety. 

I  congratulated  hun  on  his  good  fortune.  "Good  fortune?" 
echoed  he ;  "  bah !  I  have  been  plundered  of  a  princely  fortune, 
and  they  give  me  a  pittance  as  an  indemnity." 

Alas !  I  found  my  late  poor  and  contented  friend  one  of  the 
richest  and  most  miserable  men  in  Paris.  Instead  of  rejoicing 
in  the  ample  competency  restored  to  him,  he  is  daily  repining 
at  the  superfluity  withheld.  He  no  longer  wanders  in  happy 
idleness  about  Paris,  but  is  a  repining  attendant  in  the  ante- 
chambers of  ministers.  His  loyalty  has  evaporated  with  his 
gayety ;  he  screws  his  mouth  when  the  Bourbons  are  mentioned, 
and  even  shrugs  his  shoulders  when  he  hears  the  praises  of  the 
king.  In  a  word,  he  is  one  of  the  many  philosophers  undone 
by  the  law  of  indemnity,  and  his  case  is  desperate,  for  I  doubt 
whether  even  another  reverse  of  fortune,  which  should  restore 
him  to  poverty,  could  make  him  again  a  happy  man. 


